


HeartBound

by Seven_Shades_of_A



Series: The Renascentia Trilogy [1]
Category: Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate universe for Phase 2, Although she's mostly feminine-presenting, Established Relationship, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Infinity Gems, Multi, Post-Avengers (2012), Prophecy, Secrets, Tesseract, canon compliant until Thor 2, could be considered Loki/OC, genderfluid!Freyja, life at Avengers Tower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 92,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4060225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seven_Shades_of_A/pseuds/Seven_Shades_of_A
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been a year since Loki of Asgard was defeated and Earth has been mostly at peace. Until Freyja, goddess and Vanir, decides to visit. Despite her rough beginning, she holds the key to unlocking secrets that have stayed in the shadows for millenia. But she will not relinquish them easily, as they lead to her own difficult past. As she learns to trust, things take a turn for the worse, leaving her with a difficult question. Can she give up everything she believes in for the good of the worlds?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Wanderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the ruins of a Dwarven city, a forgotten goddess runs from a bloodthirsty Titan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! So this is an AU-ish story that, in my mind, takes place instead of The Dark World. Not that I don't like TDW, but I started writing this after Avengers and so it takes place directly after its events. Lots of mythology (especially later on) and slight references to the comics/cartoons affiliated with Thor.
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own nor am I affiliated with Marvel, Disney, or their associates. The characters seen in this story (with the exception of a few OC's and my rendition of Freyja) are their property. No copyright infringement was intended.
> 
> Updates every Tuesday.

She never should have remained in Nidavellir. It was the one thought that seemed to throw every other worry out of her mind. Running a burnt hand through her singed hair, she tried to put a little effort into healing the burns that crept across her skin like paint splatters. Her lungs burned, her mouth tasted of ash, and her muscles ached from running but she had enough strength to manage the feat.

Leaning against the stone wall of one of the many labyrinthine caverns of the Dwarven city, she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes turned to the smoldering village that lay a few hundred paces behind her. The fires had died down, leaving smoking skeletons of several homes and the corpses of those who hadn’t managed to escape the inferno. Her pursuer, a blue-skinned assassin she had not recognized, had been far too easily fooled by an illusion she had cast and had left shortly after burning the town to the ground.

She clapped her hands against her ears as though the action might drown out the dying screams, which still rang through her mind, of the Dwarves who had lived there. They had been so kind to her. Though she was almost a complete stranger, known only by reputation among them, they had taken her in and made her feel as though it could be a home of sorts. She had been running for so long that she had almost believed it.

Then, as was always the case, her pursuer had sent his assassin and shattered her little fantasy. Tears slid down her cheeks as she thought of the Dwarven family she had unintentionally killed solely by staying for so long. How could she have been so selfish as to believe she could escape? She thought of Dvalinn, Alfrik, Berling, and Grer, the brothers who had offered her shelter and taught her much more about their culture than her pilgrimage many eons ago had offered.

Her hands moved to the gold armbands they had forged for her, her fingers tracing over the glyphs that spelled the nicknames they had given her. The one on the right read _Vanadís_ , goddess of Vanaheim, and the left read _Stígand_ , the wanderer. Both were true to what she was and what she had become. Part of her felt as though they should have called her ‘murderer’. It certainly seemed to fit, she thought venomously, now that her folly had led to the ends of too many lives.

Fifty-three Dwarves had called that little village their home and fifty-three Dwarves had died there. All because she had tarried for far too long. Her mind wandered to the previous night, when she and the four brothers had gathered around a fire to share stories. The flames had cast light on the strangest little details of their bodies and she had caught sight of strange scars on Alfrik’s forearms. They were short and straight and grouped by fives with one line crossed over each group. She had asked him about them out of curiosity, having seen a few other Dwarves bearing similar scars.

“You are right to assume they are not from any battle,” he had explained. “It is customary, should one ever take another’s life, to carve a mark into one’s arm. It is a reminder of how many we kill.”

She had wrinkled her nose in distaste at the thought, as her people had always scorned unnecessary death, “As a warning to others?”

Despite it being Alfrik’s story, Brer had been the one to shake his head at her.

“You misunderstand their purpose, _Vanadís_. You believe it to be a show of strength. In a way, I suppose you are not wrong. But it is the strength of our souls, not our swords. They are meant to remind us of the burden of each life we take. An eternal lesson which we will carry to our own graves.”

His explanation had taken her aback at the time. Inflicting physical pain upon one’s self in order to keep track of how many one killed, regardless of the exact reason, seemed rather ridiculous at the time. Now she understood it entirely. The pain of each incision worked as a muted mirror of the suffering caused by the deaths. Of course, she would never carve the marks into her skin. Her people could not bear scars without paying a high price.

Slipping off one of the golden bands, she looked over the last works of the four brothers. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she thought of them. They had worked so tirelessly over the forge to create the jewelry, refusing her help on the grounds of customs. They resembled woven chords pressed tightly together to hold a plaque between them, the detail in them so meticulous that they almost looked like they could be as pliant as actual threads. She couldn’t bring herself to deface the beautiful pieces.

Running her thumb over the plaque with her offered name on it, her attention turned to the inside of the armband. She could not bury the bodies of the dead in the sides of the caverns, as was demanded in Dwarven culture, for fear of endangering other towns nearby by her presence alone. Perhaps she could honor their memories with this one small gesture.

She traced her index finger slowly across the smooth surface of the inside of the armband and silver smoke began to trail lazily from the palm of her hand. Where her fingers ran over the gold, marks similar to those on Alfrik’s arms appeared in the surface of the precious metal. Fifty-three marks were inlaid in the gold when she had finished.

It was a small gesture, one that she knew did the dead Dwarves no good. But perhaps she could learn from their ways and honor their spirits. Their deaths had been caused by her unwillingness to leave when she knew she must. With such a permanent reminder, the feel of the marks against her skin, she could remember to never be so selfish again.

Slipping the armband back in its place, she pushed herself off the rock wall slowly. She had to leave now. Where she lingered, death followed. Her eyes wandered once more to the lost village below, another tear running down the side of her face.

“Forgive me, my friends,” she whispered, flinching away from the sight. “May you find peace in the next life.”

Without another word, she headed down the tunnel and further from the town. She had to reach the surface of Realm to return to her ship in order to leave. From there, she would travel somewhere beyond the Nine to throw off her trail. It would be a temporary fix, she knew, but she could never stop running. She wasn’t brave enough to face the prophecy just yet.


	2. Chapter 1: Extraterrestrial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When an unknown aircraft's frequencies are picked up, S.H.I.E.L.D. sends out their best pilots to investigate. Another visitor from beyond their planet was far from what they had hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an edited version of my story, however I am not infallible. If there are any mistakes, please let me know. Thanks to all!

_"I don't know if you've ever noticed this, but first impressions are often entirely wrong. Your initial opinion on just about anything may change over time."_

-Lemony Snicket

* * *

  

Freyja stared wearily out the window of her small ship as she grew closer to Midgard's surface. She was roughly a hundred miles from the north-eastern coast of the northern American continent and was steadily growing closer by the minute. She brushed her unruly black hair out of his eyes, the transmitter to the radio she had installed last time she had been to the Realm still in her hand. It had been so very long since she had been to the Realm of the humans that she was not quite sure how to begin. A sigh escaped her lips, the sound more weary than resigned, and she went with what had been acceptable on her last visit.

“Headquarters-actual. This is hotel-echo-India-delta at ninety-two miles off your coast, requesting permission to land and stock up on some iron rations. Over.”

Silence was the only response to her transmission and she tapped the radio worriedly. It had survived a decent amount of time, she thought to herself, it wouldn’t be too surprising if it broke down now. Making sure she had done everything correctly, she repeated her request and then did so in French, German, and Spanish. Worried at the silence that greeted her announcement, she wondered if her message was being received at all. She sighed and replaced the transmitter, determined to continue towards land.

One hundred and fifty-six miles away, at the Triskelion, Agent Maria Hill listened to the strange message on the radio. She had been monitoring all unauthorized aircraft approaching the U.S. when she heard the transmissions. Turning up the volume, she listened to the feminine voice on the other end. She turned to the agent next to her.

“Alert Director Fury,” she said shortly.

The agent nodded and rushed off to find the Director. In his absence, Agent Hill turned to another agent in her group.

“Agent Johnson, any information on the source of that transmission?”

Johnson, a brunette man in his late thirties, looked baffled at her question, “Not at all. The radio being used hasn’t been standard issue since the First World War and, from the looks of the satellite images, the ship itself is not a known model. I've never seen anything like it before.”

“A new prototype?”

He shook his head, “I doubt it. From what the satellites are showing me, the technology behind the structure itself is far ahead of our times.”

“Agent Hill, what is Agent Marshall going on about?” Director Fury's voice came from behind the agents, causing them all to jump to their attention.

"There's an unidentified jet not a hundred miles from our coast requesting permission to land, sir.”

“What model?”

“We don't know, sir.”

He stared at her with a look of sheer disbelief. They were an intelligence agency that worked over the government, after all, and jet models shouldn’t have been a matter of confusion for them. Add that to the fact that it had only been a year since Earth's last visitor and repairs had only recently been finished, the idea of an 0-8-4 visitor was not particularly pleasant. They couldn't afford to have another mentally unstable alien terrorizing the cities.

“Send our three best pilots to see what it is,” he instructed. “And Agent Barton. We may need him for this.”

Five minutes later, Agent Clint Barton was leading the other three jets towards Freyja's ship. Not long after, Barton spotted the spacecraft in the distance. His eyes widened as he recognized the general design from the time he spent under Loki's mind control. He tuned his radio to the other jets.

“Target spotted. Fire at will,” he announced. “We take no prisoners.”

He narrowed his eyes, wondering where the ship had come from and who could possibly be driving it. It didn’t bode well, in his eyes, for the ship to look so familiar. He would not allow another Loki to come to his planet. Unbeknownst to him, he would not find what he was expecting from the ship before him.

Almost a hundred yards away, Freyja yawned, silently wishing someone would answer her request soon. She stared out into the clouds with all the attentiveness of a child who had been awake hours after the sun went down. A small shape approaching in the distance snapped her back to reality. The shape focused until she recognized it as a jet – or at least something similar to the fighter jets she had known. She sighed in relief and settled further into her seat. But as it grew closer, she began to feel nervous, her instincts screaming that something wasn't right.

Two more jets came into her sight and she cocked her head in confusion. Before she could realize what was wrong, missiles shot out of the oncoming jets. A string of curses fell from her lips as they headed straight towards her. She scrambled for the radio with one hand, reaching for the controls and forcing the ship upward, narrowly dodging the missiles.

“Hotel-echo-India-delta to attacking pilot. I do not want a fight. Disengage, repeat, disengage!”

She swerved to avoid the missiles as they chased after her. They turned sharply in their trail, throwing themselves off course for only a second, and returned to their path towards her. Had it been any other situation, she would have been surprised and admiring of the technological advances in weaponry.

“Hotel-echo-India-delta to attacking pilot. Requesting for you to disengage.”

She abandoned her idea of trying to reason with the pilot and concentrated fully on keeping her ship in the air. She dove, ascended, swerved, and twirled in the air in desperate attempts at escaping the missiles. Nothing seemed to shake them.

In one of the attacking jets, Barton watched as the strange aircraft went through a series of complicated patterns in attempt to get in the clear. He shot off the last of the heat-seeking missiles and began to wait for the enemy to make a mistake. The messages he had received on his radio from the enemy were spoken in an accent that sounded vaguely like Scottish Highland overlaid with a faint Lancashire dialect, if his memory was reliable. He gave his radio a tap, as though unsure if it was the receiver causing the odd lilt to her voice.

“Hotel-echo-India-delta to attacking pilot. Disengage! Abort!”

Static crackled as the message came through as if received from an old radio. The longer he observed, the more he realized something was off about the entire mission. Barton picked up his radio, never once taking his eyes off the mystery plane.

“Hotel-echo-India-delta, this is hotel-alpha-whiskey-kilo,” he said, using the official name of his personal jet. “I need your identification.”

“Identification?”

“What nationality are you? What is your rank? For what purpose are you here?”

“I do not understand what you are asking of me,” the woman replied, sounding exasperated and afraid.

“Make this easy for yourself and tell me which country you're working under, what equipment you're on, and why you're coming here.”

“I work under no country! I do not know what equipment you speak of! My name is-”

Freyja, who wasn't paying as much attention to flying as she should have been, was cut off as a missile hit the rear engine. She was flung forward and her head smacked against the window painfully. Spots danced in front of her eyes as she tried to wipe away the blood running down from the new cut on her forehead.

“Hotel-echo-India-delta? Do you copy?”

She picked up the radio again, “Hotel-echo-India-delta here. My ship is severely damaged; it won't last much longer.”

“I need you to give me your identification.”

“I told you, I-”

She cried out, startled as another missile collided with the left wing. The main wheel jerked to the right in her hand, causing the entire ship to smash into the third missile. Her head slammed into the window again, this time knocking her unconscious.

“HEID!” Barton yelled into his radio as he watched the jet spiral down to the ocean at an alarming speed.

He raced towards the falling jet, hoping desperately the pilot inside wasn't dead. She had seemed friendly enough and, if she happened to be an ambassador sent from Asgard or one of its allies, he didn’t want to be responsible for killing a delegate. It would do S.H.I.E.L.D. no good if this little endeavor ended unsuccessfully. He tuned his radio to the other pilots as he flew forward.

“Ninety-nine, change of plans: retrieve pilot and return to base.”

The other two pilots started toward 'hotel-echo-India-delta' in hope to retrieve the strange jet. If he had begun to believe that this wasn't what they originally thought before, the fact was cemented in his mind now. The woman didn't seem to have any prior knowledge of what he was asking her and, surprisingly, was primarily using army jargon that hadn’t been heard of since World War One.

The jet hit the surface of the water and started to float, rocking violently as the waves battered it. From his jet, Barton could just make out the outline of someone tall and thin behind what he realized was a crystal windshield. A thick, dark liquid was splattered across the inside of the tinted crystal, partially obscuring the figure within. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to get a good glimpse at the person in the ruined plane. The more he looked, the stranger the figure seemed to be.

“What are you?” he whispered to no one in particular.

* * *

The few agents and scientists who were in the crowd stared at the creature that had been revealed when a handful of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had pried the crystal off the tattered jet that Barton and his team had brought back. It was arguably female, almost completely androgynous in appearance with only her voice as proof to what she was, but the appearance was far from mundane.

She was tall and thin, roughly seven and a half in height, with skin so deep an indigo that it was almost black and shoulder-length black hair. Her face was slender and adorned with sharply angled eyebrows, slanted eyes, thick eyelashes, a slim nose, thin lips, a pointed chin, and narrow cheekbones that were so pronounced they looked like they would break through the skin. She was almost skeletal in appearance, and yet she did not quite look emaciated. But it wasn't her features alone that where out of the ordinary.

She wore a forest green tunic and pants, which were threadbare but had obviously once been luxurious, accompanied by a cloak of feathers which flowed down to her feet. Two thick armbands of gold with runic inscriptions embellished her upper arms while silver and gold rings holding various precious gems decorated her fingers and an intricate necklace of platinum, gold, and ruby beads lay across her collarbone. A silver circlet was worn on her head.

“What do you suppose it is?” asked one of the agents from the back of the crowd.

“Trouble,” Nick Fury answered irritably. “Take it to the lab. I want every scientist who has any experience in extraterrestrial studies in that lab. Contact Erik Selvig and get him here immediately. He may know something of use.”

With that, he left the scientists and agents to scramble to follow his orders. Barton watched from a distance as three of them carried the woman away to a lab. Something told him that this girl wasn't a threat and that he ought to know what she was. Though he wasn’t certain he had never laid eyes on her before, there was a nagging thought at the back of his head that kept telling him that he knew her. He dismissed the thought and left the room. It didn’t much matter, either way.

In the laboratory, the three scientists placed Freyja on an examination table, locking steel manacles in place to keep her from moving if she woke up. They proceeded to attach equipment which kept track of her heartbeat, her blood pressure, and anything else they could learn about her physiology without cutting her open.

Freyja was vaguely aware of the sensations in unconsciousness, but too far away to respond. Her mind swirled around in the memories of happier times. Memories of her brother, her friends, and her lover replayed in her head, lulling her into a sense of false calm as her body healed itself. While her mind wandered through her past, her body remained motionless and unresponsive for three days.


	3. Chapter 2: Word Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya awakens to find that humanity is not quite as friendly as she remembers, S.H.I.E.L.D. learns a few things about the Asgardians' sister-race, and Thor reunites with a friend he thought to be long dead.

_"Things change. And friends leave. Life doesn't stop for anybody."_

-Stephen Chbosky

* * *

 

Freyja opened her electric blue eyes, only to flinch at the blindingly bright light above her. She went to shield her eyes but recoiled when the steel manacles bit into her skin with the impact. Biting back a sharp inhale, she blinked furiously in hope her eyes would adjust to the harsh brilliance. She had to force herself to calm down as she waited, the situation reminding her of the dark memories of the last time she had been shackled to anything.

Dr. Erik Selvig, who sat in front of a laptop across from her, looked up surprise at the sudden movements. It had been a bit of a surprise when he got the call from S.H.I.E.L.D. to come in for an analysis of a new extraterrestrial. He had been a bit reluctant to agree, as he still had problems from when he met Loki, but had agreed when he received the audio files of her transmissions. She hadn’t sounded like a megalomaniac who would take over someone’s mind.

Despite the fascinating biology that they had gleaned from the specimen, the fact that she was now awake was much more interesting. He stood up and walked closer to see what his specimen was doing. From her table, Freyja began to see her surroundings more clearly, recognizing the figure next to her as human. The words she spoke to him were first in Old Norse. His brow furrowed in confusion before she repeated herself in French, German, Spanish, and Cantonese.

Selvig raised his eyebrows in surprise at the languages, “Incredible. Can you speak English?”

“I speak it well enough,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Where and when am I?”

“We’re in a research facility,” he explained.

“What is the year?”

“Two thousand thirteen.”

She let her head fall back against the examination table she lay on, “Nearly a century…”

“What are you?”

Her eyes flashed to his, “Let me go and I shall tell you. I will answer any questions I can.”

He put his hands on the table, “It’s a tempting offer, but that's the one thing I can't do.”

She was silent for a second, focusing intently on him. There was something about her gaze that made him shiver. It was as if, for those few seconds, she was looking straight into his soul.

“Not a year before now, you put your faith in Prince Thor of Asgard. If you trust the Asgardians, you can trust me.”

His eyes widened, “How did you know-”

“Please!” she twisted her wrist so she could reach his hand. “I cannot remain here long.”

Her fingers brushed his and he stiffened, his pupils dilating. He shook his head, eyes back to normal, and walked over to the control panel. The shackles snapped open at the push of a button and Freyja carefully sat up. Rubbing her wrists gingerly, she exhaled in relief. The feeling faded as she realized something was missing.

“Where are my belongings? My cloak?” she asked, her eyes widening as she noticed her fingers were bare. “My jewelry?”

Selvig shrugged, “They should still be in the other lab, being analyzed, but I'm not sure.”

“Will you take me to them?”

“Of course,” he said with a smile, walking out the door.

She hesitated at the edge of the room, “Are all rooms in this facility made of glass?”

“No, but most of them are.”

She didn't answer as she passed wearily through the door and after him. While she followed, Freyja examined her surroundings in excited curiosity. Although she wasn't unfamiliar with metal walls, as the majority of Asgard was comprised of metal, it was the type of metal and design that interested her. So much had changed since she had last been to Earth and the difference was startling. They soon reached the laboratory that held the objects the agents had managed to scavenge from her ship. The scientists stared in shock as the two walked in nonchalantly.

“Dr. Selvig, what are you doing? Why have you released the extraterrestrial?” one scientist exclaimed.

“Extraterrestrial?” Freyja asked, an incredulous look on her face. “Not quite broad enough, I’m afraid. I think what you’re looking for is extragalactic.” – a pleased expression crossed her face – “Oh, you do have a word for that now! That simplifies matters.”

A few of the men and women within blinked in surprise at the woman. Selvig seemed completely oblivious to their reactions, instead turning towards the man who had previously spoken.

“It's alright, Dr. Lansford. She won't hurt us.”

Freyja nodded in agreement, turning to peruse the tables, “I'm just coming to get my possessions. Once I have everything, I'll take my leave.”

She spotted her emerald ring, along with the others, on one of the tables. Walking carefully through the room on bare feet, she made her way towards the table. One of the scientists grabbed a Taser out of a compartment and aimed it at her. She froze at the movements, holding her hands out as if to show that she was unarmed.

“Whatever that weapon you hold is, do not harm me. I don't want a fight. I swear on my honor, as Princess of-”

She was cut off as the scientist pulled the trigger to the taser gun, sending the wires flying towards her. Her eyes widened at the electrical surge, her body convulsing as she tried to minimize the effect. But the voltage was too high, and her strength had not entirely returned, causing the opposite effect. The scientist leapt for cover as shockwaves flew through the room. The glass walls shattered and the very air seemed to hum with energy. A sharp cry escaped Freyja, pain rippling through her as she forced the energy inward, and the chaos ended as she collapsed to the floor.

The scientists in the room glanced around warily as everything went silent. A group of agents, led by Director Fury, came running through the door within the next second. Selvig blinked furiously, looking at the scene in horror. Fury's eyes scanned the room, taking in every aspect of the mess around him, but remained silent. Everyone stood still, not sure what to do in response to the ordeal.

“What happened here?” Fury asked, enunciating each word slowly as if to force himself to remain calm.

All eyes went to Selvig who quietly mumbled, “She's a Vanir.”

“A what?”

“A Vanir. The Norse believed there were two houses of gods: the Asgardians and the Vanir. They’re believed to be shape shifters and wielders of magic – the epitome of spirituality that balanced out the universe when paired with the Asgardians’ physicality.”

“Another Norse myth?”

He nodded gravely, “Most of them live in Vanaheim, but a few were known to live in Asgard. They were said to have some form of clairvoyance, which explains how she knew about Thor coming here…There were a few darker myths, those stating the Vanir could manipulate the minds of those around them.”

The agents and scientist went silent at Selvig’s words, their eyes turning warily towards the unconscious Vanir. She hadn’t seemed all that dangerous when she walked in but it was better to be safe, they thought, than sorry.

Fury turned to one of the agents behind him, “You said Thor returned to Earth recently?”

The agent nodded, “Via the Tesseract about two days ago. He's in Puente Antiguo with Dr. Foster.”

“Get Dr. Foster on the phone immediately. Tell her we need her boyfriend here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The rest of you, get her back to her lab.”

Selvig spoke up suddenly, “There's no need for the shackles this time. The Vanir were renowned for their pacifism.”

Fury looked him over, “No shackles then, but keep some guards on duty at all times. We can't have her walking out of this place.”

Fury left, along with the agent who was to call Dr. Foster. The three remaining agents carried Freyja out of the room. Selvig stood still as stone, unable to make himself move. In those few minutes, the Vanir woman had bent his will to her own, just as he had experienced a year ago. But her grip was not like Loki's. Where the Asgardian had taken over him completely, the Vanir had simply filled his head with an overwhelming calm that stomped down every precaution he had previously felt. His actions had still been his own.

One of the younger scientists walked closer to Selvig, “That – thing – can use magic?”

“Use it, manipulate it, teach it. Even the Asgardians could not have been able to wield magic had the goddess Freyja not taught them…although sometimes the myths state it was Frigga who taught them. Regardless of which, the Vanir were sometimes more powerful than their Asgardian cousins.”

* * *

Thor walked through the glass doors wearing a half-open red plaid shirt, a black T-shirt beneath and torn jeans, yet still his presence commanded attention from everyone who could see him. His lank blonde hair hung to his shoulders, muscles threatening to break through the too small muscle shirt and flannel, and his eyes gleamed with interest as he walked through the halls after a black-haired agent.

“Who again did you say was your captive?” he asked in a lilting accent that very nearly matched Freyja’s.

“We don't know who she is, and she's not our captive,” the woman answered. “Dr. Selvig said she seemed familiar with you. He thought you might know her.”

“And she is of the Vanir?”

“Yes.”

He thought about that, trying to narrow down the list of people she could be. He had been with many women in his time, but that could have been any of them. Shape-shifters were nearly impossible to place.

The agent stopped outside of the door to Selvig’s lab. Thor could just make out the blue-black-skinned figure of a Vanir lying on an examination table. He took a deep breath to control his shock. The Vanir very rarely took their true form, especially not before another species. She must have been caught off guard when they found her. The only place Vanir shed their false-skins was Vanaheim, and no outsider had seen its skies since the Æsir-Vanir war. He had heard the descriptions of their true form but this was the first time he'd actually seen it.

“I'll leave Dr. Selvig to explain the rest to you,” the agent said, breaking through the prince’s shock.

The thunder god walked through the door, surprising a disconcerted Selvig as he did. The scientist’s face split in a broad smile as he recognized the blonde god.

“Thor!”

“Selvig,” Thor laughed as he embraced his friend. “What is this about a Vanir knowing me?”

Selvig gestured to the woman on the table, “They picked her up about a week ago not far off the coast. We have no clue who she is or why she came.”

Thor took a closer look at the woman, “What is wrong with her?”

“Do you remember when Darcy Tasered you?”

“Aye.”

“She received the same treatment,” he explained, “only with much more explosive results. The main lab still hasn’t been fixed.”

Thor shook his head, “A shame that she should face such treatment. The Vanir only harm others when they must. They see all life as sacred, and any harm they cause, unless absolutely necessary, is seen as disgraceful.”

He nudged the girl with his fist, causing her to groan in response. Both men jumped at the sound.

“She's coming back around!”

Freyja opened her eyes slowly, trying to make sense of the blurry visions see was seeing. Shock bloomed across her face as she recognized the blonde before her.

“Thor?”

His eyes widened as he recognized the voice from his past, “Freyja?”

Selvig looked astounded, “Freyja? As in Freyja, the goddess of love?”

Her eyes wandered towards Selvig, “You know of me? I have not visited Earth with that name in nearly a millennium, how is it that you still know our stories?”

“Selvig knows all of our stories,” Thor answered. “Freyja, why are you here? I thought you were dead.”

She sat up slowly, wincing as her muscles protested, “I did not return in time to die. But I understand how you could come to that conclusion.”

“Dead? Why would she have died?” Selvig asked, glancing between the two.

Thor turned towards him, “Vanaheim was destroyed by a nameless army not long after the majority of the Norse stopped worshipping us. Only a few Vanir still live today. Freyja left Asgard to fight for her people, and I have not seen her since.”

“I never made it,” she whispered. “I was too late. And I would rather not speak of it, if you don’t mind.”

“Why did you not return to Asgard?”

Her eyes flashed with sadness, but it was quickly replaced by anger, “Odin refused to send warriors to help us. He knew many of us could not fight and yet he sat in Asgard and watched as we fell. And we were not the first race Odin watched fall to ruin. I could not face such a man again.”

“Freyja, I know you well enough to know when you are not telling the full truth,” he said. “You have never been fond of my father. He is not the only thing keeping you away.”

She narrowed her eyes, “That’s highly perceptive of you, Thor. You are not the man I once knew. Something has changed you.” – she examined him carefully – “And why, pray tell, are you wearing such ridiculous Midgardian attire?”

He smirked, “I _have_ changed. And I cannot simply walk around in battle armor. The sight of me would give anyone a heart attack.”

She blinked in confusion, “A what?”

“It is a Midgardian term,” he replied. “I don’t believe we have a translation for it. Why did you come to Earth?”

She shrugged, sliding herself off the table, “I thought it would make a suitable temporary home. I only plan to stay for a few days, maybe a few weeks. Time passes so differently here…”

In the silence that followed, as Thor did not bother to interrupt her as she stretched, Selvig decided to make the most of his time. He had too many questions to ask and not nearly enough time to ask them.

“How is that you’re speaking English?”

“English?” she repeated, thinking carefully before realization lit up her eyes. “Ah, yes. I’m not currently speaking English. When I first awoke, I was, but my knowledge of your languages is limited and I’ve been using an all-tongue spell since.”

“All-tongue spell?”

“A spell which allows any spoken words to be understood by those around the caster,” Thor explained. “As I understand it, Freyja should be speaking Vaniric, but the spell allows you to hear it as English and myself as Æsirian. Am I correct?”

Freyja nodded, “You understand it well enough. Is there any way you can talk these humans into returning my property?”

Her eyes suddenly flashed silver, becoming blank and vacant. Selvig watched with a mix of fear and interest.

“What is she doing? Working magic?”

Thor shook his head with a laugh, “No, she is examining the threads of the future.”

Freyja shook her head, her eyes clearing once more, “The chances are very high.”

“I shall try what I can.”

“And may I walk with you? I feel as if my limbs have turned to stone.”

“Of course,” he answered, helping her limp towards the door.

The three walked out of the room, Thor leading and Selvig bringing up the back. Freyja examined her surroundings with the same curiosity as before.

“Where are they keeping her possessions, Selvig?”

“Just down the hall, third door on the left. You’ll know it by the empty glass panes and the broken windows.”

Thor entered the room Selvig described, catching the interest of every scientist inside. Nick Fury looked up at the trio and returned his attention to the scientist in front of him, satisfied that Thor was there in case another problem arose.

“Would it be acceptable to you if I revert to Asgardian form?” Freyja asked as she examined the scientists. “It is uncomfortable to know so many have seen me without an illusion.”

Thor shrugged, “It is your choice. No one here will say anything against it.”

“And may I borrow your strength? My energy is still working to heal the wounds I obtained.”

He nodded and she put her hand on his shoulder. Where her skin touched his, gold smoke began to form. The gold turned to silver as it coiled around her, up her arm and across her torso. Everyone watched in awe as she shrank slightly, taking on a subtle hourglass figure, and the color of her skin and hair changed. Her features became softer, her hair turning a vivid shade of red, her skin paling to resemble that of a Scandinavian, a dusting of freckles appeared across her nose and cheekbones, leaving only her eyes the same strange shade of blue.

She let go of his shoulder, now just barely shorter than him, and the golden wisps disappeared instantly. The silver coils slowly faded away as she exhaled and turned her attention to the staring scientists. Their shocked expressions seemed to catch her off-guard, her lips tugging down in a confused frown.

“Whatever is the matter?”

“Humans can neither preform magic nor change their appearance more than a haircut,” Thor answered helpfully.

She cocked her head to the side, “Ah, yes. I had forgotten the Midgardians are not as adept as us – traveling for centuries will do that to you. How exhausting it must be to stay limited to a single form.” –She turned back to the scientists- “If it is alright with you, I'd like to retake my jewelry.”

“Take what you need,” Fury waved his hand impatiently. “There’s nothing we can discern from any of it.”

“You are a princess and a goddess, you need not ask,” Thor pointed out, nearly cutting off the Director’s words.

“I believe that manners are essential for everyone, be they noble or peasant,” she said before turning to Fury. “And you found nothing strange about my belongings because you know naught about them nor what you are looking for.”

She walked over to her feather cloak, fingers brushing gently across it, “This cloak is coveted by many of all Realms, for its abilities to make one become enamored with the wearer as well as allow travel across short distances. My necklace can protect the wearer from even the most powerful of enchantments. And each of my gemstone rings holds energy to power my magic.”

She fastened the necklace around her neck, donned the cloak, pulled the armbands up, and placed the rings on her fingers before realizing something. The look of worry crossed her face once more as she scanned her surroundings.

“Where is my emerald ring?”

“Emerald?” Thor asked, confused. “You do not have an emerald ring.”

Her bright eyes flashed dangerously as her head snapped in his direction, “You must have never noticed it. I have had the ring since before I left Asgard.”

“It's over here,” Fury said, holding out the ring in the palm of his hand.

She walked slowly towards him, unsure of what he was planning. Very carefully, she picked the ring up. But as her fingers brushed his hand, bright burgundy smoke began to coil around his hand. She jerked her hand back quickly in response, and the fog disappeared.

“What is it that you do, exactly, to make that smoke appear?” Fury asked.

“Every creature has an aura, a field of energy around them, which one can call upon if one so learns. My aura ignites your own because I have recently used magic. It is helpful when I teach, but a nuisance any other time.”

“You teach magic?”

“She was the first to teach us sorcery,” Thor interrupted. “Some of us did not receive that gift, however.”

“It is no fault of mine that you do not have the delicacy to wield magic,” she snapped. “Am I to blame for your reliance on brute strength?”

He laughed, “That is not what you told me before. I believe you used the phrase 'I cannot teach a man who has the patience and creativity of a tree'.”

Freyja looked offended, “I would never dishonor the druids in such a shameful way. I'll have you know that every one of them, including the trees, have patience and creativity that outshines even that of my people. I said you had the patience of a _bilgesnipe_ and the creativity of a _rock_.”

Thor gave a laugh, “So you have no trouble shamefully dishonoring me, but the trees are another story entirely?”

“You had no trouble shamefully dishonoring me when Thrym stole your hammer!” the words were sharp, but he could hear the smile in her tone.

“I did apologize for that unfortunate event.”

“No, I don’t believe you ever did.”

The thunder god’s smile widened, “Well, in that case, I offer you my sincerest regrets for dragging you all the way to Jötunheim in the middle of the night.”

“About time you apologized. I had never been so insulted in my life.”

“Are we disrupting something?” Selvig asked cautiously.

“Nothing except a conversation that was long overdue,” she replied, slipping the ring onto her left ring finger as she spoke.

“Is that your wedding ring from Odr?”

Confusion flashed in her eyes at Selvig's question, “Why would I wear a ring of Odr's on my hand?”

“Legend says you were his wife.”

Thor's eyes widened in shock, “Selvig, I would not-”

“I was married to no man.”

“Then why do you wear it?”

“Selvig…”

“There is a man I would marry, if the circumstances were different. This is his ring.”

Selvig raised his eyebrows, “I've never heard of anyone besides Odr that had that sort relationship with you.”

“And it will remain that way. Is it proper here to ask a woman of her consorts?”

“Freyja, he meant no harm,” Thor interrupted. “We should stray from the matter.”

She nodded, “You are right.” – she turned to Fury once more – “Thank you for your hospitality. I'll take my leave now.”

“You cannot simply walk out of this fortress,” Thor announced. “You have nowhere to go. Come back with me to Asgard.”

She hesitated before saying, “I do not foresee my return to Asgard, Thor. I wish to stay here for the time being.”

“There is nowhere for you to stay,” he protested. “I would ask Jane if you might stay with us, but there are no vacant rooms…”

“Actually,” Fury interrupted. “I think I have the perfect answer. There's a favor I need to call in.”

“Where would you have her stay?” Thor asked.

“You're familiar with Tony Stark-”

“No. The man has a reputation with women that even I have been made aware to. I will not condemn Freyja to his company.”

“Come now, Thor. I tolerated you at your worst for six years. Do you honestly think I cannot handle a human?”

“I fought alongside this man in the battle against the Chitauri. I know you would not take well to him”

“I'll be the judge of that.”

“What makes you so willing to throw your company in with a stranger’s? Do you even know of what became of-” – Thor stopped short, looking around at the agents within before continuing – “ _him_ after you left?”

The laughter in her face disappeared abruptly, her voice hard and sharp when she spoke again, “I have had no contact with Asgard since my departure. Why?”

“I was banished,” he responded. “And, in my absence, complications arose. You know his penchant to overreact more than most.”

“What happened, Thor?”

“He found out the truth.”

Her jaw dropped in horror, “His blood.”

Thor’s eyes widened, “You knew?”

“I should have told him when I had the chance…”

“Anytime you want to bring us back into the conversation,” Fury snapped suddenly, catching both their attentions, “feel free to start speaking English again.”

Thor went red as he realized they had switched back into Asgardian, ducking his head in apology, “I beg your pardon. I cannot always tell which language others hear with the all-tongue spell.”

“Our conversation regarded private matters,” Freyja explained, not sounding the least bit sorry.

Thor looked at her imploringly, “He needs you.”

“Who is 'he'?” Fury asked irritably.

“It doesn't matter,” she said, looking Thor straight in the eye. “I cannot go back. Both he and Asgard are in the past, and I strive for the future. As we all should.”


	4. Chapter 3: The Art of Omission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor catches Freyja up on what has happened in Asgard as they make their way to a certain genius billionaire.

_"Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored."_

-Aldous Huxley

* * *

 

The car ride out of the Triskelion was anything but silent. Nick Fury sat silently behind the wheel, listening as Jane, Freyja, and Thor spoke animatedly about everything that happened to pop into the physicist’s mind.

“So your people have no concept of gender?”

Freyja shook her head with a smile, “Not at all. We are shape-shifters, as you called us, and may exist as we choose. Gender was an entirely unknown term before we came to Asgard. We appeared as we chose to, and pronouns were something we only seriously considered after the treaty with Asgard. I was shocked when I first came to Midgard and learned how important it is to your society, but that was thousands of years ago. Things seemed to have changed.”

“Thousands of years?” Jane repeated. “How old are you?”

The laugh Freyja gave was only partially out of amusement, “That is a very difficult question, and its answer depends very much on whose time you are counting by. Time passes differently on each Realm. Asgardians count age by the number of times apples have been given during their lifetime. Idunn gives them every _eiga_ , which is somewhere around fifty human years. Does that sound right, Thor?”

The thunder god nodded, “More or less.”

“Given that, Thor is thirty-three and he would consider me to be roughly thirty,” she estimated. “Although, if you were to ask my age in Midgardian years, I would be just under three thousand years old. My people would consider me to be twenty-seven, however. And if I were to explain to you how we count, we would be here for a good ten years of your time.”

“You must have seen a lot in nearly three thousand years of traveling,” Jane said wistfully. “Have you been to all of the Realms?”

“It is impossible to journey to certain Realms. Nifheim, for example, is a wasteland nigh on impossible to reach. I have been to seven of them, as the Fire Demons of Muspelheim do not take kindly to visitors.”

“But how have you traveled if the Bifrost is broken?”

The words pulled from her content reminiscing, causing her to look at Thor in horror and disbelief.

“Broken?” she snapped. “How in Ratatoskr’s name is the Bifrost broken?”

Thor looked sheepish for a minute, his fingers fumbling with Mjolnir’s handle, which was tied to his belt. His eyes shifted from Freyja to the floor and back.

“I shattered it with Mjolnir.”

“You shattered-” Freyja’s words trailed off into a string of strange words in an almost musical language.

Jane couldn’t tell what the goddess was saying, but she was certain that it wasn’t anything pleasant. If it didn’t have an equivalent in English, and given the tone she was speaking in, Jane was willing to bet it was a good deal of colorful swearing. Thor’s dismayed expression only cemented her hypothesis.

“Allow me to explain,” Thor exclaimed.

“Oh, by all means, do. I am simply dying to know what justifies the destruction of an eons-old masterpiece of magic created by millions of Vanir as a sign of goodwill towards your people.”

Thor gave her an unamused expression before explaining with a sigh, “When Vanaheim was destroyed, we all thought you had died in the energy explosion. The few Vanir that remained on Asgard spent centuries mourning the loss. Only recently have they begun to act as though nothing has changed. _He_ , however, took your loss more deeply and visibly. No one could so much as coax him out of his room for months after your presumed death. Then, one day, he finally started his normal routine again, but he was never the same. He did his best to hide the fact, but he was never quite as happy after you had gone.

“A few years ago, on the day of my coronation, a few Frost Giants tried to regain the Casket of Ancient Winters. The event was postponed, and I was furious. Out of spite, I traveled to Jötunheim with Loki, Sif, and the Warriors Three to confront Laufey. Because of my pride, I destroyed the delicate truce Asgard and Jötunheim had established. We would have all died in those frozen lands had my father not saved us.

“He had me stripped of my powers and banished to Earth. An enchantment was placed on Mjolnir so no one unworthy may wield it. I landed in a kingdom called New Mexico and was cared for by Erik Selvig, Darcy Lewis, and Jane Foster. When I finally found Mjolnir, I could no longer lift it. I was captured by a man named Phil Coulson in my attempt to reclaim it and Selvig convinced him to let me leave. It was only then that I began to try to adjust to exile.

“Sif and the Three traveled here to bring me back, but Loki sent the Destroyer to stop them. He had been given the throne by Mother, it would seem, and he had plans to prove himself to Father which were…not the most savory. I fought the Destroyer and my attempted sacrifice proved my worth. My powers returned, allowing me to defeat the Destroyer.”

“Good riddance,” Freyja muttered under her breath, earning an odd look from Jane.

Thor, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice as he continued, “We returned to Asgard to stop Loki, as his intention was to destroy Jötunheim and end the threat of war. I destroyed the Bifrost when I fought Loki, and our father saved us from falling, but Loki let himself fall through the abyss when he was refused approval for his actions. I would have saved him had I the chance, but there was little choice in the matter.”

Freyja sighed, rubbing circles into her temples, “I swear to _Sophossentia,_ you two can’t behave for a single millennium, can you? Attempted genocide of the Jötunns and the destruction of the Bifrost…by the Norns, I leave for a thousand years and you can’t keep from falling to pieces!”

“You should ask what happened just last year,” Jane remarked, almost sounding bitter as thought of the New York incident.

“What happened last year?”

Thor looked ashamed as he spoke again, “Loki came to Earth to gain control of the entire planet.”

She blinked in shock, “That makes very little sense. Loki never wanted the throne of Asgard, why would he want control of Midgard?”

“I still cannot say,” Thor replied. “He has not given a reason. In fact, he refuses to speak to me entirely now.”

“Where is he now?”

“Safe in the palace.”

Freyja nodded thoughtfully, “But Jane poses an excellent question. Asgardian ships are not built to fly past the Realm Eternal. How did you travel here?

“A few of the Vanir that had remained in Asgard created a temporary gateway to transport me to Earth. All I needed to do was think of where I wanted to go and I was taken there.”

“And after?”

“I met Tony Stark and Captain Steve Rogers. Upon meeting them, I learned that Midgard had assembled a band of warrior they called ‘the Avengers’. It is made up of myself, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, and Steve Rogers.”

“Yes, so I can see,” she replied, waving a hand dismissively. “But what of Loki? What is it that Dr. Foster-”

“Jane,” the astrophysicist corrected.

“-Jane believes to be so important?”

“Loki stole a powerful energy source when he arrived here and was attempting to use it to bring an army of creatures called the Chitauri. It took us a few days to put aside our differences and confront Loki properly. We fought the Chitauri and Tony Stark risked his life to destroy the army from the other side of the portal with a device called a nuclear missile.

“Once Loki and his army were defeated, I took both him and the Cosmic Cube back to Asgard where we have yet to determine the fate of either.”

Freyja eyes snapped open, “Cosmic Cube”

“Yes, it was the power source Loki stole from S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“No, I understood that. My question lies in why you would call it such.”

Thor shrugged, “The remaining Vanir attempted to glean its contents, but told us they could not say what was within. All we can determine is that it has enough power to destroy the cosmos.”

Her blue eyes widened, an incredulous fear in their depths, “Describe it to me. How does it look?”

“It is a luminous blue cube that has the power to transport people between Realms and will consume all who touch it. That is all we know of it. Its appearance reminded me a bit of the charm you used to wear before you were given Brisingamen.”

The doubt was gone from her expression, replaced entirely by horror, and she pulled a silver-rimmed plate of diamond the size of a cell phone out of the pocket of the jeans Fury had lent her. She ran her thumb over the surface and the plate lit up. After typing in some strange characters, a blue cube appeared on the screen. She tapped it twice and the image floated off the surface and was projected into the air.

“Did it resemble this?”

Fury glanced in the rearview mirror to see, “Where did you get that picture?”

“Did the Cosmic Cube resemble this?” she asked again.

“That’s it,” Fury admitted.

“How can you have possibly possessed the Tesseract?”

It was then that Fury, Thor, and Jane all looked to the goddess in surprise. The Director’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, a hard edge entering his voice when he spoke.

“How do you know its name? Thor called it the ‘Cosmic Cube’ and you should have no further knowledge of it.”

“I know its name because it was my people who named it, my people who first found it.”

“Why would the Vanir, a supposedly peaceful race, have had the Tesseract?” Fury asked suddenly.

She bit her lip, “I cannot tell you. It is one of our most closely guarded secrets and I am bound by my word to not speak of it unless absolutely necessary.”

“I don't think you understand. I monitor potential threats to Earth, and the Tesseract became one of them when it was used to bring an army here. Now you come waltzing into my planet, a millennia-old alien who claims to know the origins of the Tesseract, and you expect me to simply take no for an answer. Hell, no. I have superiors who still want answers and it will be easier for you if you tell me now. For what reason was the Tesseract made and why was it hidden on Earth?”

Anger flared in her blue eyes as she turned to meet Fury’s gaze in the mirror, and her voice was as cold as steel and sharp as glass when she said, “I do not think _you_ understand. A vow in this Realm means little. They are easily given and just as easily broken. But my people cannot lie. When we give our word to not speak of something, we are physically incapable of doing so. Beings with more time than you have tried to force me to give them answers and have failed. You will not find your answers with me.”

She and Fury glared at each other, leaving Thor and Jane feeling as if they were perilously stuck in the eye of a hurricane. Freyja's stare was hard as stone and silently daring Fury to say something while his face portrayed endless determination and a pure lack of empathy. It was a full minute before Thor cleared his throat.

“You will get nowhere with her, Fury,” he finally announced. “The Vanir have the patience of the universe, often making plans that span throughout centuries. Even if she does talk, she will tell you half-truths that will leave you more confused than when you began. The Vanir are known for their nature of never lying and yet never telling the full truth either.”

Freyja turned to him, expression lightening, “I'm impressed that you remembered so much. But our speech is only confusing to those who don't listen. Your brother had no problem understanding our tongue.”

Thor laughed, “That is because, as you forget, Loki made a game of understanding the art of omission. And excelled at it.”

She nodded, “His riddling was almost as perfect as that of a Vanir.”

Fury gave one last glare at Freyja, “We've arrived.”

Freyja stared at the building as she got out of the car, barely listening to Jane as she started talking about all of the equipment Tony Stark supposedly had. A look of caution crossed the goddesses face as her eyes traveled up the expanse of the building.

“More glass,” she sighed.

“Don’t you use glass on Vanaheim?” Jane asked curiously.

Freyja shook her head, “No. It is not conducive for use in our cities.”

“And by that, you mean…?”

“It shatters at their touch,” Thor answered. “Something to do with vibrations and molecules.”

“The molecules of the glass vibrate at the same frequency as those of our molecular makeup, an anomaly which creates our ability to change forms, causing it to break upon impact,” Freyja explained. “Our homes were made of quartz, marble, precious jewels, titanium, platinum and silver. It was beautiful during the sunrise…”

There was something sad and wistful about the tone in her voice that reminded Thor and Jane of the loss of Vanaheim. They wondered what it must have been like to lose her home, her loved ones, and practically everything that mattered to her. The thunder god shook his head as Loki's face appeared in his mind. He had more important things to worry about than his brother, no matter how much he loathed the loss.

* * *

“Sir, Director Nicholas Fury, Thor, Dr. Jane Foster, and a mystery woman are demanding to see you.”

Tony Stark looked up from the screens on his desks, “Demanding or requesting, Jarvis?”

“Demanding, sir.”

“How rude,” he muttered. “And what mystery woman are you talking about?”

The image of a tall, thin woman with red hair and pale skin wearing dark blue jeans and a white blouse appeared on one of the screens. Thor and Jane were standing next to her while both walked after Nick Fury.

“There's not a match in the files.”

“Perhaps she's a new agent,” he said to himself.

“Director Fury's on the intercom.”

Tony pulled up the intercom screen, “This is Tony Stark's automated answering system. I'm busy at the moment and can't allow you to enter at this time. Please leave a message and come back later.”

“Open up, Stark. I'm calling in a favor.”

“I don't believe I owe you favor.”

“Mexico City.”

Tony paused, gaping at Fury’s impassive face through the intercom, “I can't possibly still owe you for that!”

“That's for me to decide. Open up.”

Tony pressed a button on the screen and the elevator doors opened.

“Who's the ginger?”

“I beg your pardon?” the goddess said, sounding bemused by his words.

“Her name's Freyja,” Fury answered.

“Strange name, where's she from?”

“Asgard.”

“Vanaheim,” Thor, Freyja, and Jane corrected.

Tony sat back down in his chair, “What can I help you with?”

“Freyja needs somewhere to stay-”

“Oh, no,” he stood back up. “This isn't a hotel. I never allowed just any strange women to stay for more than a night and now I don’t bring any here at all.”

She raised her eyebrows, “Concubines are still appreciated here, I see.”

Tony laughed, “I didn't mean 'concubines'. We're a lot more open here.”

“Either way, I promise I will be no trouble to you,” she continued.

“No.”

“You won't owe me for Mexico City anymore if you do this,” Fury reminded.

“I still don't approve of this,” Thor mumbled.

“We could always stay here to keep an eye on things,” Jane suggested, turning to Tony. “Is Thor’s floor still there?”

“Always,” Tony snorted. “I guess she can stay for a few days, so long as you make sure she and Cinderella behave. If she’s anything like an Asgardian, I don’t want any more broken toasters.”

Jane nodded in understanding.

Fury looked smug, nodding at Stark, “I’ll be leaving then. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Thor bent slightly to whisper in Freyja's ear, “Always watch Stark. He's cunning and prone to lewd comments.”

“I can handle myself,” she answered, stifling a laugh as she thought of how Thor might react if he knew the truth about her kind.

Thor and Jane stepped into the elevator behind Fury, no doubt going to settle into their rooms. With the three gone, Tony watched the red-haired goddess in curiosity, taking a few steps closer.

“So,” he sighed, “You have a boyfriend?”

“Excuse me?”

“A boyfriend, a husband, a lover, a consort?” he elaborated. “Or a girlfriend. I’m not sure how open Asgard is to those sorts of things.”

She hesitated, “I currently have no lover, though I would in other circumstances, but neither I am not open to welcoming one.”

A playful smile crossed his face, reminding her of him, “Interesting answer.”

He looked her up and down as if examining a particularly interesting specimen in a petri dish. She stood watching him as he walked around her, taking in every detail. She noted how his gait was more along the lines of a confident strut, the way he absently ran his fingers through his hair, the analyzing look in his eyes. He almost reminded her of the scientists her home had once sported.

“You said you were from where?”

“Vanaheim,” she answered, gesturing towards the desks. “May I?”

“Be my guest,” he answered. “Where would Vanaheim be, exactly?”

“On the westernmost branch of the crown of the Yggdrasil.”

He watched as she examined the screens, “The crown of the what?”

“Yggdrasil, the world tree. I forget most of you Midgardians know not of our stories anymore.”

He sat down in his chair, “I don't know anything about Norse mythology so you're going to have to tell me.”

She straightened up, “I will tell you the least so as to not overwhelm you. There are nine worlds, all of which are positioned on a birch tree known as the Yggdrasil. Asgard, Vanaheim and Alfheim are all on branches that make up the crown. Midgard or, as you call it, Earth is in the center of the trunk. The rest are along the roots.”

He nodded, “And how do you know Paul Bunyan?”

“How do I know whom?”

“Thor.”

She suddenly became very interested in his computers again, “I've spent many years in Asgard. I am ashamed to say I do not know Thor as well as I should, though.”

In the silence that followed, as Tony was trying to work out exactly what she was insinuating, Freyja occupied herself with other things.

She looked out the window at the metal walkway, “How do you access that terrace?”

“Through the door,” he said, the statement almost sounding like a question as he suddenly wondered if they had doors on Asgard.

She walked over towards the glass and stared at it as if it was a difficult puzzle.

“Is something wrong?”

She laughed nervously, “I cannot touch glass.”

“You can't touch glass?” he looked as he was going to laugh. “You're kidding me, right?”

“Well, I can touch it. The glass will simply shatter if I so much as brush against it. It is to do with our genetics.”

He raised his eyebrows, “You don't have the same DNA as humans.”

This time she laughed genuinely, “Of course not. You are a man of science, are you not?”

“You could say that.”

“Perhaps I will give you a blood sample so you may study the differences,” she then raised a hand, silver mist curling from her fingers to the door. “Afterwards.”

The door swung open and she walked out. Tony sat up straight to see what she was doing, the desk chair he sat in rolling forward slightly at the sudden motion. She walked out onto the walkway until she was standing on the launch pad, directly in the center of the circular area. She then sat down cross-legged, placed her hands on her knees, and closed her eyes.

“Jarvis.”

“Yes, sir?”

“What do you know about a place called Vanaheim?”

Screenshots of different websites and images appeared. Various pictures, mostly paintings of woodlands and mountainous regions, popped up as well.

“There's not much on Vanaheim, which is one of the Nine Realms of Norse cosmology. It was home to the Vanir, a branch of the Norse gods, and is supposedly more beautiful than Asgard.”

“Anything on the Vanir?”

New websites popped up, along with drawings of various people, “The Vanir are one of the two groups of gods in Asgard. They are associated with fertility, magic, wisdom and the ability to see the future. After the Æsir-Vanir war, they extracted emotions such as anger, jealousy, vengefulness, and battle-lust from themselves and continued their lives as nomads.”

“What do you mean 'extracted'?”

“They removed the emotions from their souls and locked them away, according to legend.”

“What about 'Freyja'?”

“Freyja, goddess of love, beauty and magic. She is the twin sister of Freyr and daughter of Njord. Two items are told to always be with her: a cloak of falcon feathers and a necklace, Brisingamen, both of which have unique qualities. She is known for her compassion, patience, and magical abilities. Also, she was the first to teach magic to anyone other than the Vanir.”

Tony looked over the projections at the woman who was still sitting on the walkway. The fact that this woman could see the future and use magic wasn't something he believed easily. But, then again, he had seen stranger. For example, he had just recently retiled the floor where there had been a person-sized dent from where a giant green rage-monster had smashed a far too arrogant god into it. If he really thought about it, a woman who could teach magic and see the future wasn’t that much of a stretch.

“Sir, Dr. Bruce Banner is here to see you.”

Tony glanced at the clock, “He's early. Send him in.”

Bruce entered the room not two minutes later, pushing the strap of his brown laptop bag further up his shoulder as he said, “You know, if you wanted me to come here so desperately, you could've just called. The soundproof limousine wasn't necessary.”

Tony shrugged, “I thought it would be best in case of an emergency.”

He glanced at the projections, “What's all this? I thought we were going to experiment on the molecular strength of vibranium.”

“I had a slight distraction earlier,” Tony said, motioning to the woman outside.

Bruce narrowed his eyes to try to get a better look, “Who is that?”

“Freyja. Apparently she's a goddess from Asgard and she needs to stay here for an indefinite amount of time.”

“Asgard? As in the same place Thor and Loki came from?”

“Yep.”

“And all she brought was a briefcase?”

Tony looked up, startled, “What briefcase?”

Bruce motioned towards the large briefcase leaning against the bar. Tony walked over to the briefcase, picking it up and placing it on the counter. He had not seen her holding it when she had arrived, nor any of the others, and yet there it was.

“What do you think is in here?”

“I don't know.”

He began to turn the dials on lock, trying to find the right code to open it.

“What are you doing?” Bruce exclaimed. “You're going to go through her stuff?”

“If she's going to stay here for a while, I deserve to know what she's hiding.”

Bruce leaned in as Tony continued to try different combinations. The two stared at the briefcase, silently willing it to open. It was a large invasion of privacy, Bruce knew, but he was also a little curious as to the woman outside.

“If you want to know what is in the briefcase, all you need do is ask.”

The two jumped as Freyja walked in, silver mist trailing from her fingers. Bruce turned red and looked at the floor as Tony stood up to face her.

“I’m afraid we haven’t met,” she stated, looking at Bruce.

“Bruce Banner.”

She smiled, “It is a delight to meet you, Dr. Banner. My name is Freyja.”

He took her hand, shaking it gingerly.

“How did you know he was a scientist?”

“It's written in his aura. Would you like me to open the briefcase?”

“Aura?”

“The field of spiritual and mental energy that surrounds a being,” she answered as she turned the dials to the correct combination.

The briefcase clicked open and she pulled out various objects, “Everyone's aura is comprised of multiple levels of colored energy that is based on that person's characteristics. Together, the various colors create a single hue. It works as a spiritual biography which my people can read easily in less evolved species.”

“Less evolved species?” Bruce asked, looking a bit offended.

Freyja’s cheeks turned red, “Oh, not in that sense. Only in creatures who are incapable of performing magic.”

“There's no such thing as magic,” Tony scoffed.

Freyja turned to face him, “I was told that Loki journeyed here to dominate the human race. If that is true, then I know full well that he used magic at some point. He always found joy in sorcery.”

“You knew Loki?”

She sighed, “My camaraderie with Loki was…complicated. But I was the one who taught Loki how to use sorcery.”

She finished laying out the objects and stepped back. On the bar was a cloak of feathers, a faded green tunic, dark brown leather trousers, what looked like a large slab of crystal rimmed with silver, a strange black fabric that almost looked like water, and a strange chain made of a surreal black material.

“You see, nothing out of the ordinary.”

Both Tony and Bruce raised their eyebrows at the ridiculous comment.

“Your definition of ordinary is very different from ours.”

“What would you say to making a deal? You answer a question of mine, and I will answer one of yours.”

“Fair enough. What's with the feather blanket?”

A look of utter offense crossed her face, “It is not a blanket, it is a shroud. I received it as a gift from my father. It has the ability to transport one to any destination and to make anyone who looks upon it fall in love with its wearer.”

Tony nodded, “Your turn.”

“How did Loki travel here and what, specifically, were his actions?”

“That's two questions,” Bruce pointed out.

She scowled, “They have a single subject.”

“Doesn't matter,” Tony said.

“What if I allow you to ask me two questions after?”

“That would work,” he answered. “Loki came here through the Tesseract. During his brief time here, he killed roughly a few hundred people and hurt thousands.”

She winced, her mind going to the souls who had suffered at Loki’s wrath. The overreaction of the Æsir was something she knew too well from her time in Asgard. Her throat seemed to constrict at the thought, as she felt guilt for what she had been unable to stop, and pressed her fingertips to her temples.

“Is there a quiet room where I can rest? I have the most awful headache.”

“Down that hall, first door on the left,” he answered.

She walked down the hall quickly, leaving her belongings on the bar.

“But we're not,” –the door shut behind her- “finished.”

“What was that about?” Bruce asked.

“No clue,” he said as he ran his fingers across the feathers of the cape.

He gasped as he felt the sensation of flying away. When he looked around, he was on a grassy plain in the rain. The night was dark, only illuminated by the crescent moon, but he could see well enough. A girl stood in the center, staring at the sky as lightning flashed.

“Excuse me,” he called. “Hello!”

He ran up to the girl, only to recognize her as a much younger Freyja. Tears ran down her face as she looked at the moon with a mixture of pain and defiance painted across her face. She seemed to ignore him, even as he waved his hands before her face, and he realized he was not actually there.

“Freyja!” a voice called from behind.

A tall, dark figure came running from behind Freyja. Tony couldn't make out his features in the dim light of the moon, much to his chagrin, so he contented himself with listening. The man placed a hand on Freyja's shoulder, a gesture that came across as intimate.

“You shouldn't have followed me,” she whispered. “The night is cold, and the rain relentless.”

“It is not as cold as you say. Besides, you should not be out in this weather,” he breathed.

“I wished to be alone.”

“What ails you? What has hurt you so?” said the voice, its tone full of worry.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, “My father wishes me to marry Odr. But I have no love for him. My heart belongs to another man.”

The man's teeth clenched, “And your father does not approve of this man?”

“No,” she cried, her pitch grew higher as the words left her lips faster. “I do not wish to marry a man I feel no love towards. I do not want to be forced into a marriage. But I do not want to disappoint Father, either. To have to marry a man simply because he is wealthy enough is foolish! I won't! No one can make me!”

“Freyja,” the man turned her around, holding her face between his hands. “No one will make you marry a man you do not love. I won't permit it.”

She shook her head, “I owe it to my people, but I do not want to do this.”

“You owe them nothing if it makes you unhappy. And you know I would support you in any matter.”

She nodded.

“Then cease your weeping. It does naught to cry in isolation,” he whispered, wiping away her tears. “Now, why does your father not approve of this man?”

Something flashed in her eyes, maybe fear, or regret, “For a reason so folly, it tears me apart.”

“Who is this man? Do I know him?”

She hesitated, “Yes.”

He inhaled sharply, “How well do I know this man?”

“You have known him your whole life.”

“Tell me his name,” he hissed. “Please.”

She leaned in, kissing him softly on his lips. A gasp escaped his lips before he pulled her closer. She wrapped her fingers in his hair, winding tightly into the locks as if she was afraid he would disappear if she didn't hold onto him. She slowly pulled back, hesitating, afraid of his rejection.

“I never knew,” he breathed.

“Forgive me for my rash actions,” she pleaded. “I should not have done so. I hope our friendship can persist, if you do not return my feelings.”

He smirked, “I, too, have a woman who holds my heart.”

She looked away, ashamed, “Oh. I'm sorry.”

He leaned in, kissing her on the lips. He barely brushed her skin before he backed away again.

“I was afraid you would spurn my love if you knew,” he explained.

She smiled, her expression bitter-sweet, “My father does not approve.”

“Why should he not? Am I not worthy?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer, “You are worthy in my eyes. That is all that matters.”

“No one must know,” he sighed.

“Then no one will know, especially not my father. I will not have him tear us apart.”

“I will not let them force you to be something that you are not. I will not lose you to their whims.”

She looked up at him hopefully, “Thank you.”

He held her close to him, “I will not let you lose yourself. I promise.”

And then, all of it was gone. Tony was back in his penthouse, staring at his surroundings in disbelief. Bruce was standing across for him, calling out his name, but he didn't hear until the third time.

“Tony!”

He shook his head, “What? Did you see that?”

“What are you talking about?”

Tony stared in surprise, “Nothing. Never mind.”

He glanced at the door that Freyja had walked through earlier. He couldn't help wondering what was going on, and who the man in the vision was. It was then that Tony decided, regardless of how long it took, he would find out what Freyja was hiding.


	5. Chapter 4: Dreams & Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freyja seeks a few answers on her own and Tony invites her to an Avengers breakfast.

_“Trust everybody, but cut the cards.”_

–Finley Peter Dunne

* * *

 

_“Please,” a ten-year-old Loki pleaded._

_They had been through this discussion many times before, always with the same results, and yet he was persistent._ Stubbornness, _Freyja thought to herself_ , seems to run deep in Asgardians _. She didn’t know how to shake him off the subject._

_She shook her head at him, “The process for such a thing is too dangerous. Awakening the dormant part of your mind to magic has always proven to be deadly. I'd have to make absolutely certain that your mind wouldn’t snap with the stress before I try anything.”_

_“Then make certain,” he implored. “You don't understand, everyone around us has something they excel at. Most are skilled warriors, but I seem to lack the strength to be a soldier. I can barely hold a sword properly.”_

_“Loki, it's madness. That is why it has only been done once before, and never again since Eirik.”_

_“Please? At least find out if I'm strong enough.”_

_She sighed, “Alright. But that is all.”_

_“What must I do?”_

_“Brace yourself,” she answered, placing one hand over his heart and the other on his forehead._

_He gasped, in both surprise and pain. She knew it was not a pleasant experience, as it had been necessary for her to go through the same process when she had been younger. No one had been able to understand why she had been born without the ability to wield magic naturally, despite several Healers looking over her mind, but it was one of the deeper-kept secrets of her people. His skin started to glow dimly as the shade of his aura was revealed. A halo the color of forest green enveloped him, showing her what she already knew about his personality._

_She let her hands drop to her sides as she found what she was looking for. He shuddered and began to sway as the nausea kicked in. She reached for his shoulders to steady him and watched with concern until he seemed well again._

_“That was…fascinating,” he breathed._

_“You're ready, mentally.”_

_Her words alone seemed to spark a fire in his green eyes._

_“When can you perform the ritual? Now?”_

_“If I were to try now, it would kill you. Right now, you need rest.”_

_“What about tomorrow?”_

_“Fine. Meet me in the Western Tower at dawn. If you're late, I won't help you.”_

_“Thank you,” he exclaimed, hugging her tightly. “You won't regret it!”_

The memory swirled and faded as Freyja woke up, panic welling up in her chest as she realized she was unsure of her surroundings. She slowly began to remember that she was on Earth, not Asgard, and that she was in the home of a man she barely knew. Without looking out the window of her little bedroom, she knew it was just before dawn.

She quietly made her way out of the room and onto the metal walkway high above the streets. Meditation was something the Vanir had practiced since the dawning of time, though the practice had been more predominant after the war with Asgard, and she found it often kept her sane during her travels across the Realms. Though she limited herself to solely an hour at dawn and dusk, the practice seemed to offer her an attachment to all she had lost.

As she sat in silence, her mind wandered through trivial thoughts to more serious problems. Those mainly consisted of Loki and his more recent endeavors. She had known Loki since she was roughly six years old and the two had been close. Loki had become a companion she had known almost as well as she knew herself, but nothing of what Thor had said had sounded anything like the Loki she knew. Mischief was one thing, his specialty and amusement, but he was not the god of evil.

Trouble was something Loki was very good at making, usually bringing other people into it as well. He prided himself on his tricks, and, more often than not, she was his collaborator. Though she was more of a mediator who tagged along solely to make certain too much trouble was not caused, her efforts hadn’t come to much fruition. She couldn't count the number of times Loki's antics had gotten them both a long scolding from Odin.

Odin was another one of her problems. She knew that Thor would, sooner or later, persuade her into returning to Asgard. On one hand, she didn't mind the idea of going back to the Realm Eternal. Asgard had always felt almost like home to her, despite her Vanaheim roots. But after her last falling out with Odin, even so much as thinking about him made her mind fill with an emotion she couldn't put a name to.

Another problem: the unfamiliar emotions that had plagued her of late. Ever since the loss of Vanaheim, she couldn't think about such problems without waves of nameless feelings clouding her mind. They were foreign to her and she could not find a way to counter them. Nothing, regardless of how or what she tried, seemed to work.

The more she thought on the subjects, the more another alien emotion overcame her. The sensation was more than slightly irritating as she couldn't even put a name to it. Perhaps it was impatience, although she wouldn't know if it was. She had never felt impatience. She had only seen how people reacted when they felt it.

Another unnamable emotion replaced the first. She could not describe the feeling, but she knew it had to do with being unable to understand the first. It was incredibly strong, like passion, which she was very familiar with. And yet it filled her with a sense of inability to do anything about the matters despite wanting to.

Unable to keep herself calm, Freyja decided on speaking with Thor. The easiest way to do this was through mental projection, which had always been one of Loki’s favorite tricks, as she didn’t know where exactly in the building he was. It involved separating the mind from the body and forming a projection elsewhere. She had taught many people this technique, as it was very convenient for long-distance communication.

Taking a deep breath, she projected her consciousness out into the tower. The amount of people in the city surprised Freyja, as her previous visits had been to much smaller towns, but did not confuse her. She needed only brush against the psyche of the person to determine that it was not who she was looking for. Each mind had a different tone, as each personality is different, and Freyja was very skilled at picking through which mind was which.

She found Thor after a good ten minutes of searching through what seemed as a labyrinth of psyches. Unsurprisingly, she came across him sleeping in a large bed just a couple of floors below where she was staying, his arms wrapped around Jane Foster as they both slept. The sight sent a pang of longing through her, as the sight reminded her all too much of herself and her lover. She quickly pushed the thoughts away. There was, after all, no need to dwell on what she could no longer have.

Concentrating carefully, she formed an opaque copy of her Asgardian form in the room. Breathing a sigh as she finished, Freyja walked around a little, taking a little time to examine their surroundings. The room was completely different than the one Tony had given her. The walls were a pale gold that almost seemed to shimmer like real gold and the floor seemed to match. There was, what seemed to her, a glass wall with a projection of constellations not of Earth on the far edge of the room. It was then that she realized that the room’s décor was all in an attempt to mimic Asgard.

She turned her attention away from the room itself and towards her friend. Thor had changed extensively, physically and mentally, since she had last seen him. His golden hair was slightly longer than she remembered, worry lines were etched into his forehead, and he had grown a tad bit taller. But the most shocking change was in his personality. All her life, Thor had been a little on the arrogant, stubborn, and vain side. Those parts of him seemed to be gone, or at least minimized by the humility and thoughtfulness he now seemed to possess. She wondered what else had changed.

She delved into his mind, just to satiate her curiousity despite her guilt at the action, feeling the familiar warmth his mind carried. She wandered idly for a while, shifting through the contours of his mentality but never going any further than the surface. No matter how many Asgardians she taught, she would never get over the curiosity of their minds. Loki had once told her that the minds of Vanir were confusing and always moving, like smoke in the wind. If that was true, then Asgardian minds were similar to the insides of beehives, everything was organized and separated into little compartments. Perhaps it was this, Freyja thought, which made them so connected to the corporeal world.

“Thor,” she called.

She pulled back from his mind just enough to keep him from thinking that she was being intrusive. Something stirred in his consciousness, that much she could still tell, but he remained asleep.

“Thor.”

She patiently nudged away the memories and dreams that tried desperately to invade her own mind, a common occurrence of those just waking up, as she left his consciousness and called once more.

“Thor!”

This time he awoke, flustered by her voice. He pulled back from Jane immediately, very nearly falling off the bed in his haste, and stumbled into a battle-ready stance. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was just her.

“Freyja? Is something wrong? Do you need my aid?” he asked, the fog of sleep still confusing him.

“Calm yourself, I am not in need of your aid. I simply wish to speak with you.”

“Now?” he asked, sparing a glance towards Jane.

A look of apology crossed her face suddenly, and she took a step back, “If I am interrupting your morning…ritual, I can come back at a later time.”

Thor's aura reverberated with embarrassment, “No, you are not interrupting – it’s not like that yet.”

“You’re taking it slow,” Freyja asked, trying not to sound incredulous as she watched him nod. “By _Sophossentia,_ you have grown up.”

He grinned, “It has been a few millennia. It was bound to happen, despite what some might think. However, I would prefer it if I could meet you at a later time – in a few hours, perhaps. Waking early will lead me to my death.”

She laughed, “It never killed your brother.”

Thor grumbled something unintelligible as he laid back down, knowing she was in agreement with him. She left him to his rest and returned to her own body. It was then that she got an idea, as dangerous as it was, but she couldn’t help her own curiosity. Concentrating again, she projected her mind through space until she found Asgard.

She knew the city too well, knew who she was looking for, and what his psyche felt like. The only question was where would they keep a prince prisoner? She checked his room first only to find it empty. Certainly he was in the castle, away from those who would wish for him to pay for his crimes with his life. She couldn't imagine Frigga would allow him to be held anywhere else.

She searched through every room with her mind, except the royal chambers as she didn't want to run across Odin. As usual, most of the rooms in the palace where empty, patrolled only by a few Einherjar who were oblivious to her mental presence. Few things had changed in her absence. But she found that her chambers had been left untouched in her absence, much to her surprise.

Unable to find who she was looking for, she searched the mind of the nearest guard. Like most Asgardians, he was unaware of her presence, and she had no problem filtering through his memories in search of a hint as to her search.

Before the Aesir-Vanir War, none of the Asgardians had been able to sense the presence of another in their head, making them easy prey to psychological attacks. It had been possible to bend and manipulate the mind in any way pleased in those times. It terrified the Asgardians that their neighbors could enter their minds, control them, and even rend them apart afterward. That fear had served to start the war.

Since the treaty, and the extraction of corruptive emotions, the Vanir very rarely entered the mind of another. It was mostly only practiced during magic to teach self-protection, any other usage was considered rude. She decided that such a small indiscretion was necessary and forgivable in that instant.

Freyja justified her guilt with the fact that she wasn't hurting the guard, simply searching for information. She didn't find anything that directly had anything to do with who she was searching for, but was pointed in the direction of another Eiherjar who might.

Unfortunately for her, this one had been trained extensively. As soon as she came in contact with his consciousness, panic swirled in his mind like a storm riling up a usually calm sea. Then came the pain as he tried desperately to force her out. Knowing she couldn't just let him kick her out and tell anyone about the occurrence, she fought back, pushing his weaker mind back. Using all of her strength, she overpowered his defenses and took control.

His struggles still came, but more feebly in the small recess she had pushed him into. She carefully made him fall asleep against the wall to prevent any further trouble before beginning to rifle through his recollections. She found the memory of him sensing her presence, forcing away the wave of emotions that came with it, and destroyed all traces of its existence. It was a painless procedure, similar to pulling an extra, useless string that wasn't truly woven into the pattern out of a tapestry. She then searched through the rest for something useful and found it.

Surprise rippled through her as she found where they were keeping him. Odin must have had the last say, she thought to herself, for him to end up surrounded by Asgard’s more powerful prisoners. She immediately left the guard’s mind and descended into the dungeons that were deep in the ground beneath the castle. It was there she found the two adjoining cells which had been combined to make his own personal room.

Loki was asleep in his cell, dreaming peacefully on a sparsely cushioned cot. A metal gag was locked around his mouth and his hands were loosely chained to allow just enough movement to read a book or eat. But these would not stop a sorcerer, she knew. Something else was there to insure he would not use magic – there had to be. She scanned for any dangers.

She recoiled when she came across the magic-dampening runes carved into the walls and the pure energy field closing the spaces between the stone columns. The concentration of auric energy paired with the runes made her feel a wave of nausea every time she approached them. The thought horrified her, as she knew that all of the defenses would collapse if a particularly strong blow, paired with the ancient dark magics, were to fall upon any of the fields. She was going to have to tell Thor about the problem and suggest he fix it. The Asgardians were simply waiting for a knowledgeable sorcerer to be placed within. She silently cursed their ignorance, wondering how Frigga could allow them to do something so dangerous.

With only a second's hesitation, she skirted the edges of his mind, afraid of waking him. He would certainly recognize her presence. Once, when times were simpler, she tried to surprise him by entering his mind while he slept. He had immediately woken up, but did not realize that it was her, and mistook her for a threat. The result had been a very painful mental struggle that went on for hours as he refused to relinquish his hold on her mind until he realized it was her. After the incident, he had made certain that he was completely familiar with her psyche.

His mind was relatively calm, dwelling in dreams that surprised her. In his mind, he was in the middle of one of Odin's feasts. Everyone was there: Sif, Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, Freyr, herself, Thor, and many of their old friends. He was speaking to her, making her laugh. She couldn't make out what they were saying, and it was likely that they weren’t speaking at all, but her heart yearned for the times when such a scene was a possibility.

The thought of waking him, of speaking to him, crossed her mind but she couldn't muster the courage. She had run away and led him to believe she was dead, betraying him in a sense. Instead she just examined him and took in the details that had changed as she had earlier with Thor.

His ebony hair was longer than usual, and uncharacteristically unruly. He was taller than she remembered, his face slightly longer. But his chiseled features, his narrow-like-razorblades cheekbones, thin eyebrows, and soft lips – an odd distinction from his otherwise angular and pronounced features – were the same. There was, however, a scar across the edge of one of his eyebrows and another down the side of his face just by his ear that were new. His slender fingers were lying flat against the satin cushions that lined the gilded cot, barely twitching in his sleep.

She retracted her presence, unable to bring herself to force him awake, until she was back in the Avengers Tower. She fiddled instinctively with her emerald ring, as she did when she worried about anything. Finally admitting that she didn't have the courage to go back and actually let Loki know that she was alive, Freyja got to her feet, entering the penthouse in the hopes of finding breakfast.

Bruce was asleep on the couch, catching her by surprise. Did he not have a home? She wondered if it was customary on Earth to have the guest sleep on a couch. The gesture seemed strange, in her eyes, as she was used to the practice of catering to visitors. Then again, it wasn’t her home.

She walked quietly towards the bar, where her possessions still lay, in hope that Tony had something to eat. As she reached for the handle of the fridge, she was startled by a voice.

“Can I help you with anything, Miss Freyja?”

She jumped in surprise, looking around the room for who was speaking to her. Unable to see anyone, she mentally searched the rooms around her, only to find no one else besides Tony and Bruce on the entire floor. A look of confusion crossed her face as she reached for the handle again.

“There is nothing in the fridge except tequila and a carton of expired milk,” the voice said again.

“Who's there?” she asked uncertainly.

“Jarvis, ma'am.”

She looked around again, “Where are you?”

She heard Tony laughing from behind her, “I see you've met Jarvis.”

“To be honest, I have not met him yet,” she admitted.

“You won't find him,” he said, walking towards her. “Jarvis is a computer program I created to help me with anything I need.”

“A what?” she asked.

“A computer program.”

“I do not know what a ‘computer’ is, much less a ‘program’ for one.”

“You were very interested in mine yesterday.”

“Ah, the mechanical screens which provide information. Your Midgardian equivalent to this,” she said, picking up the slab of diamond from the bar and tapping it twice.

The surface of the diamond lit up like the screen of a TV. Freyja tapped a few keys on the screen, causing the image of several runes to project itself into the air just above it. Tony seemed to perk up at the sight, his eyes taking in the object hungrily, and he took a few steps towards her.

“Can I see that for a second?”

“Of course,” she answered, handing him the tablet.

He examined it, peering at every angle to try and find something new. When he was certain there was nothing visibly different about it, as he couldn’t find any outward evidence of how it worked, he handed it back to her.

“Does it come in English?”

She laughed, “I'm afraid not. However, you can read it with a bit of help.”

He watched as she slid her fingers across the surface of the bar, brushing them against his own fingertips. A gasp escaped him as an electric shock seemed to jolt through him. His vision swam for a few seconds, as though he was looking at the world through a glass of water, before it cleared and he could suddenly see the letters as though they were in English.

“There you are,” she said happily, handing the tablet to him again.

He searched through it again and whistled in appreciation, “Do you have any more of these? If I could take one apart and manufacture them, I could rub it in Mac's face. _That_ would teach them to challenge me to build something better than they did.”

She shook her head, “I don't think there are any left besides my own, and I am reluctant to part with it. I'm afraid you will have to create something different to spite your friend.”

“Not a friend, a company,” he corrected, searching through more and more. “What is this?”

He showed her the screen which now held a picture of her and Loki when they were nine. The two were sitting in the water of a fountain, laughing under the silver and gold statue of Elves, Dwarves, and armored warriors. Freyja’s eyes turned sad and she took back the tablet from his hands. The screen went blank at her touch, her eyes turning down towards the crystal.

“An old memory,” she answered curtly. “Enough of this, though. You wouldn't happen to have anything to eat, would you?”

He shrugged, “Not here. I could take you out to breakfast.”

“Alright,” she consented, walking over to Bruce.

“What are you doing?” Tony asked.

She stopped, “Waking up Dr. Banner to ask if he would like to accompany us.”

“He's fine,” he said. “He could use some sleep.”

She looked confused, “You wish to leave him here?”

“We’ll bring something back for him,” Tony assured her.

“In my culture, we find it rude to leave guests when we intend to share a meal,” she explained, looking away as she shook Bruce's shoulder gently, “Dr. Banner.”

Bruce woke up with a start, glasses askew on his nose as he sat up, “What? Where are we?”

“In Tony Stark's Tower,” she answered softly. “We are going to breakfast. Would you care to join us?”

“Breakfast? Sure. Sounds good,” he answered. “Where're we going?”

“I was thinking shawarma,” Tony spoke up.

“What is shawarma?” she asked, giving Bruce a sideways glance as he groaned.

“It's seasoned meat that’s roasted for long periods of time and sliced,” Bruce explained. “Tony’s had an obsession with the stuff since last year. But, as I’m sure he’s forgotten, shawarma _isn’t_ a breakfast food.”

She looked at Tony, electing to ignore the eye roll he gave Bruce, “Is there anything without meat?”

“You're a vegetarian?”

“All Vanir are, or were,” she added sadly.

“What do you mean 'were'?” Bruce asked.

She turned back to him, “Have you ever lost anyone you loved, Dr. Banner?”

“Yes. And ‘Bruce’ is just fine.”

She nodded, “Then you will understand what I meant. But we should not linger on the unfortunate. Let us depart.”

She walked into the elevator after Tony, with Bruce following behind.

“Tony said you could use magic,” Bruce said as they rode down. “Is that true?”

“Humans have call it magic, Asgardians call it science; but in truth, it is simply the ability to use the full capacity of your mind and soul,” she answered.

“Could you elaborate on that?”

She smiled, enjoying the return to teaching, “The Vanir are distinctly different from the many beings that inhabit the Nine Realms. We are the only species born with the natural ability to use the entire capabilities of the mind, even extending to our very souls themselves. This allows us to channel our auras to our whims, creating and manipulating the world around us – within the limits of reality, of course. I have developed a method that can unlock the dormant section of the mind of other beings, so that they too can reach their full potential, but it requires the participant to have a strong mind that will not break with the influx of heightened sensitivity.

“Now, what I have just explained to you is thanks to your own evolution. I previously did not have the words to describe such a concept, as your language did not yet have words which corresponded to mine, and so the idea confused many, leading them to call it by another name. When I was last on Earth, the humans were awed by the capabilities of my students, calling us sorcerers. However, Asgardians believe magic is a branch of science, which is true in many ways.”

Bruce nodded, but was still a bit confused on the matter. He chose to remain silent, however, as the elevator came to a stop. The doors slid open and the trio walked out where Tony's limousine sat on the curb. They all stepped in, quiet as Tony gave the driver the directions.

“You said something about students earlier,” Bruce noted. “Are you saying you taught magic?”

“Yes. I can name every one of them, choice Asgardians, Elves, and even a few humans who seemed prospective. I do miss teaching from time to time…”

“Were you the first to teach magic?”

“Do you recall how I said part of the brain of other species is dormant? No one taught magic to outsiders, as it was physically impossible for a very long time. Though I was not the first to try to Awaken the minds of others, I was the first to do so successfully. I very nearly got myself into a lot of trouble, actually, as such a task was forbidden after the disastrous effects of the previous volunteers.”

“What happened to the prior participants?”

She hesitated, “It was only tested twice before my own success. The first man, a Light Elf, went mad and died within a day. The second was an Asgardian. He was wounded terribly, but could not die, and so we turned him into an oak tree to end his suffering.”

Tony sat up, looking appalled at her words, “You turned a man into a tree?”

“That was far before my time,” she replied. “He still stands on the mountainside, or he did when I left. He should still be there. I can't imagine anything, or anyone, would harm him.”

“You say that as if he were alive.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Of course Eirik is alive. That was the point of transforming him into a tree. Interestingly, he is as wise as a Vanir now, perhaps even rivaling that of the Norns. If you are kind, he will tell you one of the worlds’ secrets. I visited him many times in my youth.”

“Eirik, the tree?” Tony repeated, looking as if he were about to laugh.

“If you doubt my words, I could show you,” she said, offering her hand.

Tony scoffed and she turned towards Bruce, “The same offer stands for you.”

He looked at her in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“I can allow you to see my memories of him, if you wish. Since your mind is not Awakened, I can only show you through touch.”

He shook his head, “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You are reluctant to see my memories,” she guessed, placing her hands back in her lap.

“Peeking into somebody else’s head?” Bruce asked. “It seems like an invasion of privacy, even if you’re offering.”

“I suppose I see how the offer could be off-putting for you. It did not strike me before, as my people used to share memories often. If two were very close, it was common for the two to go so far as create a bond between minds which allowed mutual entrance.”

“You can enter peoples' minds?”

She nodded, becoming uncomfortable with where Tony's question might lead.

“Can you force those people to do what you want?”

“It is rude to enter a being's mind without his, her, or their permission,” she said forcefully.

“So you can,” he pointed out. “What else can you do?”

“Things you cannot possibly imagine.”

“Such as…?”

She shot him a pointed look, “If I give you one example, will you be satisfied?”

“For now,” he answered.

“I can rend a mind to pieces, leaving the person dead, insane, or no better than a vegetable.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, “Interesting.”

“But I have only done so once, and not by choice,” she snapped before turning to Bruce, her voice softening. “Is that all you wish to know?”

“Could you, if you entered someone’s mind, take away his ability to feel certain emotions?”

Freyja frowned, “Emotions are seated in the soul, not the mind. But I suppose, in theory, it is possible. My own people did so. Why do you ask?”

“There’s something you should probably know about me,” he said sheepishly.

“Bruce…”

The scientist looked up at Tony with an almost challenging expression, “If she’s going to stay here, she deserves to know.”

“Know what?”

He looked up at her, eyes earnest, “When I get angry, or upset…something happens to me. I don't really know how to explain it…”

“You could always show me,” she suggested, offering her hand once again.

“How?”

“Focus on the memories you wish to show me, and I will see nothing else,” she explained.

He took her hand hesitantly, as if he truly didn't want to, and instantly she saw flashes of memories. But they were blurred and quick and trying to catch a single one was like trying to hold onto smoke.

“Your mind is erratic,” she told him. “I need you to calm yourself in order to see what you wish me to see.”

He tried to calm down, but couldn't seem to. Suddenly, he felt a calm flow over him, like the peaceful, rhythmic pattern of waves on the shore, and he knew it was her. She saw the line of memories slower now, more understandable than before. She saw explosions, gunshots, and then Bruce. But then it wasn't Bruce, but a large, green monster. It tore apart trucks and buildings, killed and hurt people. Then there was a strange machine over him. It shone a green light into his eyes.

And suddenly she was back in the car, watching Bruce with new eyes.

“This…side of you, it comes out when you are angered?”

“Angry, surprised, startled, any emotion that sends my heartrate up. I haven't really found a way to fully control it.”

“It’s possible that I could help you with this,” she said as the car came to a stop.

Tony barked out a laugh, though it sounded oddly disbelieving, “He tried to cure it once. No dice.”

She shook her head, stepping out after him, “You misunderstand my words. I do not wish to cure this, for it can be helpful if harnessed correctly, much like my own magic. My abilities can be just as chaotic, just as dangerous to those around me, if I am not in full control at all times.”

“This isn't something I can control,” Bruce pointed out.

“I think I could help you. I will not force my aid on you, but I would appreciate it if you would think about my offer. A life on the run is no life, believe me.”

Tony looked at her in surprise, “You’ve lived on the run?”

She flinched, internally cursing herself for revealing too much, “I am a nomad by heart – though the same could have been said for all of the Vanir – but recently, I have simply been running.”

“From what?”

She looked at him, a well-controlled mask of apathy on her face, “Something I hope you don’t come to know for a very long time.”

Tony and Bruce exchanged a glance as she walked into the restaurant without them. Bruce gave a faint shrug, following her in without another word. It was probably best, he had decided, to leave some stones unturned. Tony was not satisfied to leave some secrets to Freyja. He preferred to know what was in the closets of those who stayed in his Tower.

His current priority, however, was to get breakfast. Freyja and Bruce were talking over the menus as they sat at one of the tables near the front. Pointing in their direction to the hostess, Tony managed to arrive at their table at the same time as the waitress.

“Okay,” Tony said the woman. “I need one sunrise special with bacon. And a cup of caffeine, but you can keep the cream.” – he looked at Freyja – “Do you know what you want?”

Freyja looked down at her menu, muttering, “I’m not really certain what any of this is…”

“She’ll have the farmer’s wrap,” Tony told the waitress. “No bacon.”

“Anything to drink?” the woman asked.

“Water will suffice,” the Vanir replied.

The waitress nodded, scribbling into her notepad. Tony pulled out his cell phone, typing rapidly on the screen, as Bruce explained what he wanted.

“Do you mind if I invite someone?” he asked, even as the message was being sent.

“Not at all,” she answered. “Though, might I ask whom?”

“Just wait, I think you'll like him. You’ll have the same old-timey ideals.”

“Would you mind letting Thor know where we are?” she asked. “I told him that we would meet.”

Tony nodded, typing out a new message just as quickly as the last. Bruce looked in their direction as the waitress left.

“Who're you texting?” he asked.

“Steve,” Tony replied. “He says he's bringing Natasha and Clint.”

Bruce stopped as the phone gave a short trill and peered at the screen, “What's 'h-o-b-r-t' stand for?”

Tony raised his eyebrows at the message, “Your guess is as good as mine. I'm surprised he's even figured but how to use that phone.”

The waitress returned with their drinks, placing a bottle of water before Freyja. She inspected the plastic bottle with an expression of unveiled curiosity. Both Bruce and Tony exchanged another amused glance at her actions. They did not know, however, that Freyja had never seen a water bottle before. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, or how it might affect the taste of the water itself. Although she was certain they would not intentionally poison her, she was uncertain of how her body might react to the chemicals within the bottle, and so she checked the future just to make certain.

When one of her students had asked her what the future looked like, she had replied that it was similar to embroidery. And, in ways, it was. The future was always changing, always different within each strand that together formed different scenarios. ‘Possibilities which become probabilities which become reality’ is how she had always explained it. In order to tell which one would happen, she depended on small details that were unique to each strand. These could range from what color tunic a person may wear that day down to whether she happened across a stray coin in the road.

Freyja didn't see anything out of the ordinary, so she hesitantly twisted off the cap and took a sip. Satisfied that it was edible, she began to think about whom Steve, Natasha and Clint were. She remembered that all three were part of 'the Avengers', as Thor had explained to her the day before, but she still wondered what they were like. Bruce was kind enough, but Tony was complex and sometimes downright rude.

She didn't have to wait long for her answer, though. Not five minutes later, in walked a woman with red hair and a tall man with blonde hair and the posture of a soldier. Both were talking animatedly with broad smiles.

But it was the last man to walk in who captured her attention. He was completely unfamiliar to her, his face adorned with a wide nose, scowling mouth, a prominent brow, and light brown hair that was cropped short. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. The strange eyes that seemed to be a mix of blue, green and grey; eyes that were so similar to the ones which had contained cold apathy and hunger for bloodshed. Eyes that she had seen long ago, and haunted her in a nightmare of a memory. Eyes of an enemy.


	6. Chapter 5: Honesty of Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freyja is reminded of a demon from her past and, in her attempts to clear her head, gives in to Tony's seemingly benign request.

_“ 'So you're always honest,' I said._

_'Aren't you?'_

_'No,' I told him. 'I'm not.'_

_'Well, that's good to know, I guess.'_

_'I'm not saying I'm a liar,' I told him._

_He raised his eyebrows._

_'That's not how I meant it, anyways.'_

_'How'd you mean it, then?'_

_'I just...I don't always say what I feel.'_

_'Why not?'_

_'Because the truth sometimes hurts,' I said._

_'Yeah,' he said. 'So do lies, though.' “_

–Sarah Dessen

* * *

 

Freyja kept as still as possible, fighting every instinct telling her to run from the man with the all-too familiar eyes. Fear still sparked through her as she remembered rough hands holding her wrists above her head and the taste of blood on her lips. _This is not the same man_ , she thought to herself,  _he simply has similar eyes_. But they weren't simply similar, they were uncannily the same. The same as the eyes that she had thought beautiful before the man who had possessed them revealed himself as a monster. But this was not the same man. The similarities ended with their eyes.

“Freyja, this is Captain Steve Rogers,” Bruce motioned towards the blonde man in a T-shirt and jeans.

He took her hand carefully, unlike the others had, “Pleased to meet you, Freyja.”

She smiled, though the gesture was forced as she fought back her panic, “The pleasure is mine, Captain.”

“Natasha Romanoff,” Bruce continued as the red-haired woman came gliding forward, extending her hand. “And Clint Barton.”

She shook the hand of the other man, Clint Barton, last, her eyes cast on his lips to avoid his gaze, “It is a pleasure to meet you formally. I believe you shot me out of the air?”

He smiled, which she stiffly returned, “Sorry. I was following orders.”

She nodded, “I would hope so, I was beginning to think there was no such thing as manners on this planet.”

Tony, Bruce, and Steve laughed, though both Natasha and Clint seemed slightly peeved. They dragged another table over and sat down. Steve took the seat next to her, at the head of the table, giving her a chance to speak with him.

“Captain,” she started, putting down her wrap, “if you don’t mind my prying, you are not from here, are you?”

He shook his head, “Not exactly. And you can call me Steve.”

“Where _are_ you from, if I may be so bold?”

“With all due respect, ma’am, you wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“And if I told you I came from a similar place as Thor?”

He raised his eyebrows, “You came from Asgard?”

“I was born in Vanaheim,” she clarified, “but I spent most of my adolescence in Asgard.”

“So do you have a title?” Clint asked, causing Freyja to stifle a flinch.

She turned towards him, her gaze directed on his lips rather than his eyes, and she put all her effort into keeping her voice steady and amiable, “A few. I am first and foremost the Princess of Vanaheim, but I have been called many names. The last time I journeyed here, your people named me the goddess of love, magic, and beauty. I believe a group of have called me the Teacher of Mystiques, as well. But that was a minority race which was quickly integrated into the Greeks. They called me the goddess of wisdom then.”

“You were Athena?” Bruce asked.

She nodded, “It was one of my many names upon Midgard.”

“But Athena was the goddess of battle strategy,” Tony pointed out. “Thor said your kind were pacifists.”

“Asgard was home of many strategists and warriors. I may be against violence, but I studied strategy out of pure interest, though it did help when Thor would drag me off on his adventures. There were also games we played that required such knowledge.”

“So you've been here more than once?” Bruce asked.

“I've spent time in every world, but Midgard has become one of my favorites. I came here often after the genocide of my people although I spend my time in various places as it hurts to watch each kingdom fall. The last time I was here, Europe was at war,” Freyja answered, her tone sounding almost sad as she spoke the last sentence.

“So where you just Athena and Freyja,” Tony asked. “Or did you have more names?”

“Every visit to this world brings a new name. I have been called Athena, Juno, Perenelle, Druantia, Alys, Isis, Alaghom Noam, Kwahn, and many others. Inconsistency seems to be natural for you, in more ways than one, though I cannot entirely blame you for it. Life spans as short as yours will stand to have drawbacks. For example, no matter how many times I try to enlighten your race, you seem to forget everything I've said within a century. I cannot recall how many times I informed people the Earth was relatively round before Christoforo made his wager against me.”

“Christoforo?” Steve asked. “Do you mean Christopher Columbus?”

She nodded, “I will never forget his expression when I showed him what Midgard looked like from the heavens. He was surprised that a woman knew better than he, though he wasted no time in using the knowledge to swindle the King of Spain. I still have my winnings.” – she pulled a flawless ruby the size of a ping pong ball out of her pocket, placing it on the table – “He was not content to part with it, apparently it was a gift from a dutchess, but Christoforo was a man of his word.”

“Do you always carry jewels in your pockets?” Tony asked.

“Of course,” she answered, replacing it in her pocket. “Gemstones have the ability to hold reserves of energy. Sorcerers keep gems on their persons in case of emergencies. I can go for weeks without food or water so long as I have a few with me.”

“Do you really expect us to believe that,” Natasha scoffed.

Freyja stared at her as if the question was beyond ridiculous, “Of course. I may not speak the truth at all times, but I never lie.”

They stared at her as if she were crazy, making her stop short. Did they really not understand what she had said? But, then again, many Asgardians had not understood certain things she said from time to time. Thor had said it was because of the half-truths, but the confusion was unthinkable to her.

“And that means?”

She sighed, “My people are incapable of lying. It is a…quirk, as you would say. But we do not speak the full truth when we do not feel the need for it.”

“No wonder Fury has been irritated lately,” Clint laughed. “He said you hadn't been cooperative. What was it you refused to tell him?”

Freyja shifted uncomfortably in her chair, “Nothing your people has a necessity to know.”

Tony grinned, “You really do know how to play with words. You never say anything that might give something important away.”

She smiled over her water bottle, “The secret is millennia of practice.”

“Is that why Loki is so good at lying?”

She choked on the sip she had just taken, not expecting Natasha to speak up, and certainly not expecting that particular question to be asked. Her hand flew up to her lips as she coughed, the action meant to hide a grimace at the mention of Loki.

“Thor told Fury that you taught Loki how to use magic and how to lie.”

She covered her discomfort with laughing, silently cursing Thor for his recklessness, “I may have taught Loki magic and the more complex way of speaking but, believe you me, he was very aware of how to lie before I met him.”

“So it was your fault that Loki tried to take over Earth?”

For the first time since he had stepped into the restaurant, Freyja’s eyes locked onto Barton’s. In that second, when he saw the outrage in their blue depths, that he almost wished she’d look away. But he was not afraid of her. Regardless of whether or not she could turn him to dust at the wave of her hand, he had a bone to pick with Loki and anyone who associated with the so-called god.

“I beg your pardon.”

“You gave him the ability to do what he did. You put power in the hands of a monster. His actions stemmed from yours. You're equally responsible for all of the deaths he caused.”

Freyja stood up abruptly, causing her chair to wobble precariously, “How was I to know Loki’s actions? The Loki I knew hadn’t been capable of mass genocide.”

“But your kind can predict the future, right?” he demanded. “What kind of irresponsible moron gives someone that much power without checking out how he’ll use it later?”

Freyja gave a sharp sigh of disgust, moving away from the table. The anger in his eyes reminded her too much of the dead man’s. Memories of his weight above her and his hot breath against her neck, memories she had tried to push down for so very long, and she needed to escape the walls that seemed to be closing in around her. But his fingers clamped around her wrist in a far too familiar manner and she panicked.

It wasn’t her intention to enter his mind, but the contact sparked in him a sense of recognition which was quickly followed by a panic of his own. Memories that were not her own invaded her thoughts and blocked out the world around her. She saw a spear tipped with a blue gem, a ruin of stone and earth as the ground collapsed before her, and Loki grinning wickedly within a damp tunnel. He was afraid of her in that moment, she realized, because her mind invading his had felt similar to Loki’s control.

A gasp escaped her as she managed to pull away from Clint, both mentally and physically. She stopped short, her expression changing from shock to horror as she realized what she had just done. Her fear only increased at the way he was looking at her, as though he had seen her own memories at the same time she had seen his. Everyone at the table stared at the two in silence as they stood only a few feet apart.

Freyja cursed in the language of her people and turned on the balls of her feet. She rushed out of the restaurant, slamming the door behind her and leaving the Avengers behind. She was appalled at the strength of the memories that had caused her to lash out so thoughtlessly. Her hand self-consciously moved up to where her Dwarven armbands usually sat but fell when she realized they weren’t there, as she was trying to appear marginally normal amongst the humans, to fiddle with the emerald ring on her finger.

As she walked down the crowded streets of the city, Freyja looked around at what seemed like chaos to her. Her times on Earth had been not too long before, by her standards, and yet so much had changed. When was the last time she had actually been to the city of New York?  The last thing she remembered of Midgard was saying goodbye to Martin, the soldier she had befriended. He was likely dead, she thought sadly.

She can’t remember when she was last in the city. Time spent on Midgard was distorted alongside the time of Asgard and the other Nine Realms. Her eternal life of running didn't help, either. But she had to keep running to keep herself alive, to keep others from dying, and to keep her promise to her people. Her thoughts drifted again to the marks on the insides of her armbands. How many marks, how many lives, carved into the gold? She had lost count when the number passed two hundred and she had been forced to make them smaller. It sickened her to think that the ever-growing number was her fault, but there was no way around it.

Not for the first time, she wondered whether she should end it all. But, then again, the enemy she was running from would simply continue to ravage the worlds until he found what he looked for. Until he found what she kept from him and how to use it entirely. And though she knew she was the only one who had what he wanted, she didn’t doubt his tenacity to find it out regardless of whether she was dead or alive. Why he wanted to know so desperately, she would never know, but it was her job to protect it.

But she didn’t want to think about such morbid things. She had escaped one fate of dying only to stumble upon eternal suffering. The years of living with the fact had somewhat made her acclimated to it, to where it was only a dull, ever-present ache at the back of her mind. She had more important things to keep in mind, particularly her meeting with Thor in what she guessed would be a few minutes. All she had to do was make her way through the city back to the Avengers Tower.

Freyja turned in a circle, trying to guess which direction was the right one. It didn’t take long for her to realize that she was utterly lost and a very unladylike word in Vaniric accompanied the epiphany. Fueled by determination, she straightened up and walked briskly in one direction, fervently hoping she was going the right way. She figured that if she walked for long enough, it would be nigh on impossible to miss the very large building with a massive _A_ on the top corner.

* * *

Thor paced back and forth in Tony's penthouse, his fingers twitching towards Mjolnir’s handle as Jane and Tony sat on the couch and exchanged a glance. It was an hour after noon and Freyja had yet to turn up. A million different scenarios rushed through the thunder god’s head, each one worse than the next. He fervently hoped she was alright.

“What were you thinking, allowing her to leave on her own?” he suddenly growled at Tony, causing both humans to jump. “She does not know this city. What if something has happened to her?”

“I didn't let her go anywhere on her own, she ran out of the place before we could stop her,” he protested. “Besides, why do you care about her so much? Who is she to you?”

Something flashed in his blue eyes, “We were close when we were young. And she means much to a man I know.”

Tony stood up from the couch, “Ah, yes. Her 'lover'. Who is this mysterious man no one will talk about?”

“That is none of your concern.”

“Was he someone she shouldn't have been with? A thief? A servant? Give me a hint.”

“Tony,” Jane hissed in warning.

“I would not tell you anything if I wished to,” Thor all but snapped. “I will not betray Freyja's trust.”

“She'll never know,” the billionaire laughed. “I won't tell.”

Tony soon found himself face-to-chest with the blonde god as the distance was suddenly closed between them. Before Thor could reply beyond glaring down at the man, the elevator doors slid open and Freyja walked in looking relieved. She slumped against the wall to the side and gave a sigh of gratitude.

“At last. I was beginning to believe I would never find it,” she laughed.

“Where have you been?” Thor exclaimed.

“Have peace, Thor,” she said softly. “I simply needed a respite and I got lost in my search.”

“Do you have any idea how worried I have been? There are more dangers in this world than you can count in your lifetime.”

“Oh, Thor, I was not aware that you cared for me so,” she teased half-heartedly, something she hadn't done in millennia. “I’m touched.”

He shook his head at her, “You wished to speak with me?”

She nodded, “The chamber I have been given is just down this hall. I trust we shall have no problem speaking privately there. You are welcome to join us, Doctor Foster.”

She walked off with little more than a gesture towards the two, and Jane wasted no time in following the two gods. She watched with interest as the two seemed to have a silent conversation exchanged only by simple looks. Unbeknownst to her, they were having their own side discussion through the temporary link between their minds.

 _I believe you are mistaken, Freyja_ , he thought. _I doubt Stark will leave us alone. He is too curious for his own good._

She smiled in return, _Do you truly believe I am not going to use a silence charm? Honestly, Thor, sometimes you lead me to think your common sense does not exist._

She closed the door behind Thor and Jane, muttering a small incantation in her own language, as they walked around her. Silver mist trailed from her fingers as she locked the door. Thor sat down in a chair next to the desk Jane was leaning against, making the seat look twice as small.

“After I left you alone this morning,” she started, “I found Loki in the dungeons.”

Both the god and the human looked shocked by her words.

“Why would you look for Loki?” Jane asked, her tone becoming disdainful as she said the name.

Freyja sighed, “Loki was as much my friend as Thor is. And I feel…responsible in part for what he did to this world.”

“What Loki did with the magic you gave him is not your fault,” Thor told her.

Jane looked between the two in surprise, “You can give magic to other people? Could you do it with humans?”

“Only on a few. Human minds are slightly different than that of Asgardians and tend to overload too easily,” she explained, returning her attention to Thor. “Have the Vanir in Asgard checked over his mind for traces out of the ordinary?”

“They attempted to, but he locked them out,” he said. “He would likely allow you to look within his mind, if you came back with me.”

She flinched, “I cannot do that, Thor.”

“Stark informed me that you said you are running from something.”

She grit her teeth, silently cursing the man, “I am.”

“What are you running from? What hunts you?”

She hesitated before answering, “An enemy who wants what I cannot give him, what I refuse to give him. I cannot fight him. And do not offer your aid, for no one can. So I run and keep him chasing me, try to keep him from the innocent, and I will not put Asgard in danger.”

Thor narrowed his eyes at her, his eyes roaming over her before focusing on her right hand, “What is that?”

She glanced down at her hand, noticing the bruise where Clint had grabbed her, “Nothing that means anything to you.”

“What is it, Freyja?”

“It is a bruise, Thor, and nothing to be concerned over. It will heal by sunset,” she answered curtly, quickly changing the subject. “I did not ask you here to speak of trivial things. I need to speak to you about the defenses within the dungeon.”

“What of them?”

“You have combined magic-resistant runes with auric energy fields to restrain the prisoners’ use of magic while keeping them within their cells. But using such extreme measures within close proximity of each other will cause a weakness in both.”

Thor nodded in understanding, “I will alert Heimdall of this. Perhaps we can use the Cosmic Cube to siphon their energy…”

“No,” Freyja snapped immediately. “You do not understand the properties of the Tesseract. The excess energy it contains will eventually spill out, tearing a rift in space directly beneath the palace and potentially destroying Asgard. It would be in both of our interests if you would return it to me.”

He shook his head, “It is impossible. My father has given strict orders against anyone so much as touching it.”

“If Freyja’s people guarded it before, maybe she should take it back,” Jane pointed out. “She would know how to protect it if she understands it completely.”

Freyja gave a grateful smile, “Exactly. Besides, Thor, the Tesseract attracts too much unwanted attention, dangerous attention. Its presence in Asgard alone shall bring destruction down on your people. Just as it did mine.”

He looked up, surprised, “The army that ravaged Vanaheim was after the Tesseract?”

She scowled, cursing her recklessness, “I was appointed its guardian, but the power drew too much attention to me. I hid it away here, practically buried in magic-suppressing runes, to keep it safe. But someone apparently took it from the family I left it with.” – something hard flashed in her eyes, giving her face a haunted look – “Thor, if the Nine Realms are to survive, the Tesseract must be returned to me.”

“What is the Tesseract? What was its purpose?”

“You know that I cannot tell you that.”

Jane took a hesitant step closer, “Isn’t there another way? There’s no half-truth you can tell us?”

“Ignorance is safety,” Freyja replied. “It is better this way.”

“We can protect you, Freyja. Whatever enemy you face, he cannot withstand the might of Asgard.”

She laughed nervously, “The whole of Vanaheim could not withstand his wrath.”

“That is because the Vanir were not warriors.”

She shook her head, “Return the Tesseract to me, Thor. I will keep the monster distracted and he shall never hurt anyone.”

Jane shook her head at the two, “You can’t possibly run for the rest of your life.”

“I have done so for a millennium and a century. I can continue and no one else shall suffer.”

“You will suffer,” Thor countered.

“This is my burden to bear,” she breathed, fiddling with her emerald ring. “It always has been, always will be.”

Thor gestured to the ring, switching into his native tongue, “ _He_ gave it to you, did he not?”

She nodded, “He gave it to me before I left. A charm for good luck, he told me.”

“He needs you, Freyja.”

“He never needed me. It was why I loved him, because neither of us needed the other.”

When she looked back up at him the anger had left her face, replaced by pain so strong he flinched. Jane shifted uncomfortably where she stood and, though she could no longer understand what they were saying, she felt as though she was intruding on a private moment between the two. Not that she minded. She could tell the relationship between Thor and Freyja was one of old friends, not of old lovers. Privacy in such moments was something she could give him easily.

Freyja fell silent, and he realized just how strong of a mask she had put up. She had built a fortress to hide behind, to try to keep herself strong. He wondered if he could do what she was doing were the roles reversed. Could he force himself to let go of everything he cared about to live on the run, to protect the Nine Realms? What could the Tesseract possibly be that was so dangerous?

“I chose to be happy once, to betray the wishes of my people and seek out my own whims. This is my punishment for my selfishness. An eternity spent away from what I love,” she sighed.

“Freyja,” Thor stood up, reaching for her hand.

She cringed away from his touch, reverting back to English, “I have taken too much of your time with such morbid subjects. You two should disregard my musings, enjoy the rest of the day.”

“Are you sure?” Jane asked, concern for the other woman clear in her brown eyes.

“I’m certain,” she assured the woman. “It would be unfair of me to take any more of your time. I imagine, knowing Thor, that you two do not normally find too much time together. I should not waste it.”

Jane looked uncertain, but nodded in thanks as she took Thor’s hand. It was obvious that he was worried for his friends and she wanted to provide what little comfort she could. Thor unlocked the door but, before he could walk out after Jane, he spared Freyja one last glance.

“People are not punished for seeking out happiness. It is not selfish to wish for joy in life. You deserve to be happy, Freyja. No one should have ever told you otherwise.”

She stared at the wall, a blank expression on her face, but he knew she had heard every word. He took one last glance at the broken princess who sat on the edge of the bed before leaving. His laced his fingers through Jane’s as they walked back down the hall, thanking the Norns that Jane had found him and not been permanently taken away. He could only imagine how Freyja felt.

Tony was standing behind the bar when they returned, mixing a drink while he whistled an upbeat tune. He looked up at the couple as they walked into the room.

“What did she want?” he asked.

“To discuss the defenses of Asgard’s prisons,” Thor answered, getting into the elevator with Jane.

Before the playboy could say any more, the doors closed behind the two. He gave a sigh of resignation as he went back to his drink.

“Jarvis, what was it that they were talking about in there?”

“I'm not sure, sir” the AI answered. “I couldn't hear a word.”

“Hmm…”

The sound of a door swinging open caught his attention. He watched as Freyja, red-eyed and looking miserable, shuffled out. She barely stopped when she saw him, seemingly deciding that it was too late to sneak back to her room.

He raised his eyebrows, “You look like shit.”

“That didn’t translate properly, but it is not a compliment, I take it?”

“You need a drink,” he continued.

She looked nervously at the glass in his hand, “I do not think that is a good idea, Vanir have a low tolerance for alcohol.”

“Don't worry, I'll make sure it's not strong.”

He poured a bright green mixture into a plastic shot glass, something he had bought while out since he didn’t want her breaking all of his glassware, and handed it to her. She looked at it as if he had given her a frog.

“It's not going to bite, you know,” he told her with a laugh. “Just don't let it hit the back of your throat.”

“Forgive me, I was just surprised by the color,” she replied, downing it without another word. “That…was not what I was expecting.”

He refilled her glass and grinned, “Not used to drinks like this?”

“In Asgard, liquor is always some shade of amber, and do not taste of apple.”

“Shame. Here's something you might like,” he said as he pulled out a small bottle. “I've been saving this one for a while. It’s supposed to hit you hard.”

She laughed, “That does not make sense no matter how you look at it.”

“Oh well,” he said as he poured more in her glass, knowing that soon she would become more talkative – and then he would have answers.


	7. Chapter 6: Elusive Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries his luck to get the answers he's looking for and Freyja seeks out an old lover when she cannot clear her head.

_“I'd rather regret the things I've done than regret the things I haven't done.”_

–Lucille Ball

* * *

 

Before even the first hour had passed, Freyja's mind was clouded and she could no longer think straight. Her thoughts were jumbled and incoherent, a stark contrast to her usually carefully ordered mind, but she couldn't find it in herself to mind. There was something relaxing in the fog created by the liquor. It allowed her troubles to float away and be forgotten, if only for the moment.

Tony sat on a stool next to her, sipping carefully at his scotch while steadily refilling her glass. He had made sure to stay sober, though he had gone through an appletini and a shot of bourbon just to keep up appearances. He didn't need to, which he quickly realized, as she was too distracted to pay attention. She didn’t even say a word as he poured her another shot of peach Schnapps.

“How peculiar for a drink to taste of fruit as this one does,” she mused, downing the plastic cup’s contents.

He laughed, “I have a drink for every flavor you can think of. Name one and I'll point you to the bottle. Given that it’s on Earth, of course.”

She looked at him in disbelief, a giggle escaping her as she suggested, “Peppermint?”

He stood up and brought a bottle from the shelves, presenting it to her with a dramatic bow, “Here you have it, my Lady.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Taste it yourself,” he said, filling her glass. “Then you can apologize for ever doubting me.”

She took a tentative sip, smiling at the taste, “Incredible! I love peppermint. It reminds me of Asgard.”

Tony sat up suddenly, “Why's that.”

“I used to sneak out of the palace with a friend on full moons,” she told him, smiling wide with eyes that were light years away. “We would drink peppermint tea, watch the stars, and share stories from our cultures.”

“A friend?” Tony asked, slumping slightly on his stool in disappointment.

“Well, we were friends in the beginning. Our relationship grew stronger with time,” she sighed. “But my father did not approve, however, and we were forced to continue our affair in secrecy. It’s funny how blind to the obvious most can be.”

“Affair?” he asked, becoming steadily more interested. “One of you was married?”

She choked on her drink, “By _Sophossentia_ , what would lead you to assume such a preposterous idea? I do not consort in such ways with married men and women. Neither of us was married, though he _was_ a widower. I never met her personally…”

“Why didn't your father approve of this guy?”

“It was because of what Realm he hailed from. The Vanir do not marry outside of Vanaheim and Asgard due to complications in their children.”

“Where was he from?” he asked, pouring more into her glass in the hope of finding out more.

She started giggling suddenly, one hand reaching up to cover her smile while the other gently clasped his shoulder, “Thor spoke true when he said you were sly. I am not so foolish as to give you exactly what you want. But I shall play your little game. In the end, it matters not where he was from. His birthplace would offer you no clues as to who he is.”

“Was he a peasant? A thief?”

“No, no. He is of noble blood, if not noble birth,” she said with a wry smile.

“Noble blood, but not birth,” Tony muttered, trying to work out exactly what she was saying. “A disgraced lord?”

She giggled again, looking thoroughly amused at his expense, “You think yourself wise, Tony Stark. I admit, you are knowledgeable, but you lack in wisdom. No definite answers will pass my lips. I do not trust you enough with such information.”

“You can trust me.”

“The only people who know of our relationship are myself, him, and Thor. Do you truly believe I would give such a secret to you?”

“If you trust Thor, you can trust me,” he assured her. “I can keep a secret better than he can.”

“I didn’t choose to tell him. He happened across us one afternoon,” she slurred. “He actually wasn't as surprised as I had expected, and vowed to never speak of it. I trust the word of my friend over that of a stranger.”

Tony huffed in irritation, swallowing down the last of his scotch.

She examined Tony as if she couldn't quite see him, “I do not understand why you are so adamant on this subject, much less why you are so frustrated with failure. Do you truly believe you are more perceptive than I am elusive?”

“Anything can be answered if you have the right amount of stubbornness,” he told her. “And what do you mean ‘elusive’? Are you lying to me?”

“I cannot lie, but I will not answer with complete honesty, either,” she informed him, sighing as she traced the rim of the glass with a finger. “I tire of having him nameless. Let us call him 'Leif'.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Leif? Is that an actual name where you’re from?”

“Of course not,” she laughed. “It is, however, common in Asgard. Leif means 'beloved one', so I suppose I see the appeal.”

“Alright. Did Thor know 'Leif' well?”

“They knew each other very well, but were not as close as they should have been. I always saw them as opposites, but more akin to two sides of a coin than opposite without similarities.”

He nodded, trying to figure out what she meant by 'should have been', “What do you mean? Were they family or something?”

“They are not related by blood.”

“Okay. He's still alive, right?”

“Of course.”

“What does he look like?”

“His appearance is a façade, made by his own mind to hide the truth. What he looks like depends on whether you choose to believe the lie or look beyond to reality.”

“That doesn't tell me anything,” he protested, pouring more into the plastic glass.

She raised the cup to her lips, another teasing smile hiding behind the rim, “In truth, it tells you more than you would imagine.”

“You said he wasn't married at the time, but were you his only girlfriend?”

“That word baffles me; it does fit the use you give it. But, yes, I was his only lover at the time.”

“And Leif was your only boyfriend?”

“Not entirely. I suppose the answer to that question lies in how you look at the circumstances. My father had been lining up suitors for my hand for nearly two years, and I had to appear as though I was considering them, at the very least. But he was the only man I was truly in love with.”

“What about his personality? What was he like?”

“He was intelligent, perceptive, loyal, caring, a bit temperamental at times, but he calmed easily. But that was before, millennia before now, and much has likely changed in both of us.”

“So he's different now?”

“From the little I have seen in Thor's memories, I have determined as much. Could I have expected any differently? Time changes everyone. So tell me, Stark, have you determined who it is I speak of?”

He looked baffled, “Are you kidding? I barely know a handful of the people in Asgard, and half of those are from the mythology. How am I supposed to guess who this guy is if all I know is based on your ridiculous answers?”

Her words stretched as she yawned, “You are supposed to guess because, knowing Thor, he has already given you his name unintentionally.”

“So I've heard his name before?”

“Most probably.”

Tony mentally went through every time he and Thor had spoken of Asgard and the people within it. It had come up a handful of times, sometimes mentioned in passing when related to something else they had been talking about, but it was difficult to recall the exact words. He scrambled for any name or unusual word Thor might have said in those conversations, but nothing came to mind.

“Can't you give me another hint?”

“Alright…He only showed his true self, his true emotions, to me. To everyone else, he was a chameleon, taking on whatever role was demanded of him. It made people call him a liar but, like me, he never told a true lie. He simply never told the full truth. He was a true silver tongue.”

“How is that supposed to be helpful?”

“You are an intelligent man,” she remarked. “You should be able to find the answer to such simple riddles.”

She got off of her barstool shakily, her hand reaching for the counter as she wobbled on her feet, “Tell me when you have an answer. But do not let it anger you if you cannot find your answer, for I have bested many men before.”

“Hold on! I need a better hint than that,” he exclaimed, reaching out to grab her shoulder. “You can't-”

The second his fingers brushed against her shirt, she began to fall towards the floor. He reached out to grab her, moving quickly in an awkward tangle of limbs as he caught her, and sighed irritably. This was not what he had been hoping for. Sure, she had gotten drunk within a few drinks, but she hadn't been much more unguarded than she was while sober. And now he had to drag her to her room.

She was lighter than he had expected, he guessed she couldn't weigh more than a hundred pounds, and he wondered how that was possible when he’d found out the hard way that Asgardians weighed exponentially more than most humans. Perhaps that was why her people had sought out mental and spiritual strength, he thought. Either way, it made carrying Freyja to her room much easier.

He thought of everything she had told him, trying to pick out anything that was significant. She had painted a vague silhouette, making a man of broad strokes of color like a van Gogh painting, of her mysterious lover. That was just it. She had made a body, but had not provided a face. He grit his teeth in frustration as he laid her across the mattress.

Meanwhile, Freyja's head swam in and out of various memories. Most were broken and jumbled into incoherent chaos, but one stood out like a flame in darkness. The last conversation she had with her father before she refused to speak to him again. It had been the day she truly gave up hope in her family, the day she had turned away and never looked back.

_Her father was tall, even by Vaniric standards, and had the same blue-black skin, pale silvery eyes, sharply angular features, and long black hair, which was pulled back at the nape of his neck with a leather tie, that was standard among their kind. Freyja had always found it strange that her eyes were electric blue while the rest of her people shared the same iridescent silver shade that marked them in any form. But she was too busy examining how his features were now contorted in a stubborn glare, his reaction to whatever she had just told him._

_“I will not repeat myself again, Freyja. You are forbidden to see the boy again!”_

_“Why?” she yelled at him, her fists clenched at her sides as she refused to give in to him. “Give me one good reason besides his blood! He is not like his people, he is different! If you only met him, you would approve!”_

_He matched her in volume when he replied, though his tone carried no inflection, “I am your father and you will do as you're told! You will marry Odr or Thor or any of your suitors and you will not object! What in the name of_ Sophossentia _do you find wrong with them?”_

_She was not hindered by his use of the name of their deity, though she knew most would be. It may have intimidated the others, but she did not care, for she was tired of living under her father’s every whim._

_“I feel no such love towards them.”_

_“You believe love has anything to do with marriage? Love is an emotion for the other Realms, not for us.”_

_“Oh, do tell me what emotions are allowed,” she scoffed. “Ever since the end of the war, we have extracted negative emotions and crushed any others we feel. We have turned ourselves into stone out of the belief that we will find tranquility and enlightenment in our apathy. We haven't become wiser, we've become statues!_ _The reason we have not progressed further is because we feel no passion. When we smother our passion, we have no drive! No ambition!”_

_“Passion is for the foolish.”_

_“And indifference for the ignorant!” she shouted at him._

_“Your time with the Asgardian has corrupted you!”_

_“It has awakened me to the truth! We hide from our emotions because we are afraid of the damage we caused in our anger. But we have made ourselves empty. We are not living anymore, Father, we're simply existing!”_

_He scowled at her, the first sign of any emotion he had shown her in a very long time, “Would you rather be dead?”_

_“I'd rather experience life for one day and die the next than live the hollow life you want for me. Do you not wish for me to be happy?”_

_“Why wouldn't you be happy with one of your suitors?”_

_“Because I am not happy in their presence now. I will not live my life simply being content! I will not become the vacant automaton you wish me to be!”_

_“Why is it you must be so stubborn?”_

_“I am stubborn because I know that this lifestyle we have chosen is wrong._ Sophossentia _gave us emotions when He created us, why should we extinguish them? The only reason you allowed this to go so far is because you were hurt by your own infidelity!”_

_“You dare-”_

_She cut him off, unable to keep from driving the knife further as he had done to her for so long, “You were forced into a lackluster marriage so you found the love you craved elsewhere. Your affair with my mother was what killed both her and your wife! You attempt to blame me for everything that has gone wrong in your life solely because you’re afraid to admit that no one is to blame but you!”_

_“Silence!”_

_The shout caused her to step back in surprise, automatically putting more distance between them. It was a foolish move, as she knew he could still reach her if he wanted to punish her, but one she could not stop._

_“It is not your place to speak of such!” he snapped._

_“But it is the truth and it deserves to be told as such rather than in whispered rumors,” she reasoned. “Does Freyr even know?”_

_“You will not tell your brother of this!”_

_She nodded, setting her jaw stubbornly as she spoke, “You're right, he should not hear this from me. You should be the one to tell him.”_

_Her words seemed to catch him by surprise, as he sat back into his throne, his face paling slightly, “He does not need to know what is not important.”_

_“But he deserves to know the truth! We need to stop running from the truths we don't approve of. How can we call ourselves wise if we shun the shadows that dance among light? You cannot claim to understand the world if you ignore half of it.”_

_“Enough of this nonsense! You will forget about the boy, you will marry a man I approve of, you will be content with the life I have chosen for you, and you will thank me for it! This discussion is over.”_

_She paused, a sad edge shining in her eyes as she realized what she had to do, “You're right. This discussion is over._

_“I will not marry any of my suitors and I will not hide from what I feel. As I am illegitimate, and therefore not fully of noble blood, your laws have no control over me. I have no more strength to withstand your rulings over my life. If you cannot accept me for how I am, then I have no place in this family.”_

_She slipped the solid gold ring, the one that identified her as the king's daughter, off her hand and let it fall to the floor. It rang against the metal floor, the echo speaking louder than her words, but the two never took their eyes off each other. The first ring was quickly followed by the star-emblazoned silver band that marked her as Queen Van's daughter, an identity she had never owned to begin with._

_“I will not trouble you any longer,” she told him, giving a stiff bow. “May_ Sophossentia _ensure your safety and prosperity. Farewell, King Njord.”_

_She turned swiftly and walked out, feeling his skeptical gaze on her as she left the room. Despite the tense argument, Freyja felt the waves of sadness rush over her at the idea that their relationship had ended this way. Though she hated him for all that he had done, for all the misery he had caused to her and her brother, she knew a part of her would always love him. Part of her hoped against hope that he would come out and call her back. She hoped he would apologize._

_As she reached the end of the hall, she realized he wasn't going to. He had rejected her, accepted her denouncement of their ties, and had not cared. Tears blinded her sight as she continued on her way._

The memory blurred there, leaving her with only a brief recollection of the kindness of her father’s servant. A flash of the necklace that was usually around her neck, an apology from the man who was more a father to her than her own blood, and a sense of the slightest hope to dull the pain was all she was given before the recollection seemed to slow once more. It took no time for her to fall into the familiar rhythm of it once more.

_“Heimdall,” she whispered up to the sky. “Please open the Bifrost.”_

_And then she was back in the Observatory at the edge of Asgard with a flash of color and the familiar wave of dizziness._

_“Thank you, Heimdall,” she breathed, ignoring the lingering energy sickness, as he watched her sadly._

_She all but ran the rest of the way to the palace, desperately fighting back the tears that threatened to choke her. Her chambers were empty, as usual, and she was able to cope with her sorrow in silence. Her brother had come shortly after and had begged to be let in. So she let him enter, breaking down and telling him everything she knew. And she had been surprised and relieved at his easy forgiveness._

_That night, she cried in the arms of the man she wasn't allowed to be with. His embrace holding her close, as if afraid she would break if he let her go, regardless of how strong he knew she could be. As she drowned herself in her misery, one thought circled her mind. It taunted her, rubbing salt in her fresh wounds._

_Her father could have stopped her from leaving, could have accepted her feelings. But he didn't. He had let her leave without a second glance. He hadn't thought her worthwhile. In the end, it was as she had always expected: he didn't care._

_Just like everything else._

* * *

Freyja woke up with a start, unable to rid her mind of the traces of her memory. Her eyes burned as tears sprang up in her eyes. She shook her head and stared at the light to stop them, refusing to leave her room crying. It was moments like this, when the recollections that haunted her were unpleasant, that she wished her kind was capable of dreaming like the other species.

On top of the loathsome memory, she had a headache that felt as if an axe were cleaving her head in two. It served her right, she supposed, for drinking so much the previous night. She shuffled out of bed and into the living room of the penthouse.

Tony was standing behind the bar with a coke, looking oddly cheerful for a man up at this hour. He examined her as she walked towards him, taking in her bedraggled appearance, and took another swig of his soda to hide his smile.

“You okay?”

“No,” she groaned, Vaniric accent slipping in over her Asgardian one. “I have a terrible headache and everything is far too bright, far too loud. Next time you plan on drinking, I will simply take water.”

“It's called a hangover, and when you said you couldn't hold liquor, I didn't realize you meant that you get drunk within two glasses,” he laughed. “I have some Tylenol and coffee if you want.”

She eyed the small pill in his hand, “I don't believe your medicines will do much good. I'll go meditate.”

He raised his eyebrows, but simply told her, “Suit yourself.”

She opened the door outside with the flick of her wrist, silver mist pouring from her palm, and walked out onto the balcony. She sat cross-legged in her usual spot on the metal overhang and closed her eyes.

Clearing her mind seemed impossible, nothing could get rid of the pounding headache and, with it, the foreign emotion that clouded her mind. She sighed, trying to think of a name for it. Was it agitation? She wouldn't know if someone told her as much. After all, she had never experienced such. Perhaps she should ask Thor to let her experience a few of his memories of when he felt agitated. That would at least give her a sense of what it was.

She couldn't think of another solution. Although she knew the emotion had to be anger or irritation, she didn't know the difference between the two. The truth behind the sensations was impossible for her to find.

No longer able to meditate, she summoned up the courage to check on Loki once more. She felt responsible for him in more than one way, even though he was older than her by a few months – years in human time. This time, now that she knew where he was, it took her a few meager seconds to find him.

He was no longer bound in any form, the gag taken off of his mouth. He was also awake and staring at the floor from his bench.  Before she could pull away, he stiffened, and she knew it was too late.

He looked up, incredulity clear on his face, “Freyja?”


	8. Chapter 7: Saccharine Bitterness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple thousand years is a long time to keep things to themselves.

_“I know of no more disagreeable situation than to be left feeling generally angry without anybody in particular to be angry at.”_

–Frank Moore Colby

* * *

 

Loki stiffened as he recognized the feeling of another presence in his empty prison cell. He felt frozen, thinking that it was The Other coming to punish him for his failure, to take him away to Thanos. But then he recognized the presence as the one person he had ever let inside his head. The one person he never thought he would see again.

“Freyja?” he whispered into the seemingly empty air.

The air before him shimmered as she appeared, her projection wearing a simple midnight blue silk dress. He took a few minutes to take in her appearance. She looked different from when she had left, and it was more than her age. She had faint worry lines etched into her forehead, her strange electric blue eyes no longer shone with the same brightness, and her face was distinctly thinner. She looked weary and haunted as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. But he could feel her emotions as they flowed out to him, as they did since she had Awakened him.

Her emotions hit him like a tidal wave. They overlapped and crashed into each other, conflicting and tumultuous as an ocean storm, to make a mess of sensations that threatened to overwhelm his mind. He fought to push them to the edges of his consciousness where they wouldn't bother him. Her turmoil was surprising, as she had always been so level-headed before, and left him dazed and disorientated.

“Freyja? I thought-” he stopped, remembering the story of Vanir who had broken vows. “You're a spirit? What promise could you have possibly broken to deserve this fate?”

She shook her head, her crimson hair dancing like flames, “I'm not a spirit, Loki.”

“But -” he broke off, eyes widening as he realized what she was saying. “You're alive.”

He stood up, part of him wanting to hold her as he had done so long ago. And yet another was holding him back. A little nagging voice at the back of his mind brought forward several questions, important questions, that needed to be answered.

“How – Why did you not – Why did you lead me to believe you dead?”

He stared deep into her eyes as sadness and pain and something else, perhaps longing, burned in their azure depths. What reasons could possibly justify leaving him in such a manner? He silently begged her for answers, wanting, and yet not, to hear her answers.

“I – I wanted to come back,” she assured him. “Honestly, I did. I wanted it more than anything. I just needed time.”

“You needed two millennia?!” he hissed, his voice rising with his temper. “You couldn't have told me? I thought you had died in the battle of Vanaheim!”

She winced at his tone, “I would have come back, but something held me. I couldn't-”

“What could have possibly kept you from returning?” he demanded, pain and anger mingled in his words, making them sharp. “Is my affection so trivial in your eyes?”

“How can you even ask such a thing? I stayed away to protect the Nine Realms, to protect Asgard, to protect you.”

“Oh, do tell,” he snapped, pacing like a caged animal. “I cannot wait to hear what explanation you have for this!”

“You know I was charged with protecting the Tesseract-”

“A duty you gave up shortly after you renounced your family ties,” he scoffed. “After your family’s status landed you in the hands of a sadistic beast for weeks.”

She gaped at him, stunned at his careless words, “Do not speak to me of that monster.”

He flinched suddenly, guilt crossing his expression. Though it was gone within seconds, a faint flash which was quickly replaced once more by his rage, Freyja would never miss the change. It seemed he still resented Merek as much as she did.

“I hid the Tesseract away on Earth because it attracted too much attention to Asgard,” she told him. “But I could not hide the secrets I hold, and our enemies know this. What do you think I have been doing for the past few thousand years?”

“Enjoying life's many pleasures,” he accused.

“I have been running from Thanos!”

He stopped dead, a sense of horror flitting through him as he remembered the name. The face of the purple-skinned Eternal, and his Chitauri minions, flashed through his mind. It had never occurred to him that Thanos might have had an interest in Freyja. Despite knowing the Mad Titan was Niflheim-bent on finding the Tesseract, Loki had always thought her to be forever out of reach for him.

“I would explain who that is, but then you already are familiar with him,” she spat. “Thor told me everything that happened in my absence. I have been keeping Thanos chasing after me to keep him away from Asgard and those I love. But despite my precautions, you toss my actions to the wind and jump into the tempest without a second thought! Did it never occur to you that my entire life has been devoted to protecting the Tesseract? What did you think to accomplish by handing it over to him? He would have killed you – but only after he made you watch the death of those close to you.”

“It does not matter,” he snapped venomously. “There was no one who cared for me. Asgard tolerated me because you, their beloved sorceress, were kind to me. When you left, the truth came out. I thought you were one of the few who truly loved me, but it would seem I was mistaken. What person would abandon, and betray the trust of, those they hold in their hearts?”

Something flared in her eyes, catching Loki by surprise, “You asked me not five minutes ago if your affections meant little to me, now you speak to me as though I am your bitterest enemy. I wonder if it is _you_ who no longer cares for me.”

He turned on her but she stared him down with anger that matched his own, “Have I ever given you any reason to doubt my love? You, on the other hand, left me behind. You left Hela and the twins behind! Do you have any idea what it is like to explain to your children that they have lost yet another mother-figure in their lives?”

She gaped, “How can say that when you know my absence was against my will? It was never my intention to hurt them.”

“I say it because, despite what you wish to believe, you abandoned us. You kept the truth from me, something you vowed never to do.”

“I kept you from the death that surely would have found you otherwise!”

“You lied by not speaking the truth! Not only have you done this, but you knew I was a Frost Giant by blood since we first courted. Why did you not tell me? I expected such from Odin, but from you?”

“I never spoke of the matter because I didn't care that you are Jötunn – I don't care now! I thought I made that clear when I disowned my family.”

“But you didn't tell me!” he screamed, betrayal contorting his features.

“If you had known I was the bastard daughter of the Vanir King, would you have told me?” she demanded.

He turned away, attempting to hide his flinch as he remembered how heartbroken she had been when she found out, “That's different.”

“How so? I wanted to protect you from the grief I felt, just as you would have done had you known.”

“That does not change anything. You betrayed me, how can I trust you now?”

She grabbed his shoulder, wrenching him towards her so that she could look him in the eye, “How can you complain when you have so much?”

“What do I have? No one loves me! No one even cared enough to tell me the truth about myself!”

“Everyone cared!” she screamed, tears forming in her eyes. “Your mother and father took you in, kept you from the painful truth! Your brother treated you with the respect and affection anyone would envy! How can you be so dismissive when you know my father did not love me enough to even try to persuade me not to leave? He let me walk out of his life as if I were a servant who poured his drinks, and you know this.

“You have everything! You still have your family, your friends! Your world still exists! I have lost it all! What do I have in my past? A broken family and a love I could tell no one about! What do I have ahead of me? An endless personal Niflheim of running! Don't you dare accuse those who care for you of not loving you when you take everything for granted!”

“You think you are in Niflheim?” he yelled back at her. “My life is a lie! No one is who I thought they were, not even myself! I try to prove to Odin that I can be worthy of being his son and he spurns my actions. I try to find a kingdom of my own to rule and I am thrown in prison for my troubles. No matter what my actions are, I never do anything right!

“And on top of everything, I find out that you, the only one I ever truly trusted with every fibre of my being, the single person I believed to love me after Anni, has also kept me in the dark. You have deceived me. You claim to feel love when your people are as empty as stone. Your people are incapable of feeling anything, it would seem. Why should I believe you when you've done this? Your people are masters of manipulation, after all, so why should you be any different? You are just like the rest of them: untrustworthy and cold!”

“Enough!” she yelled, his few belonging flying backwards as her pent-up energy gave out in her anger.

Of all the time he had spent with Freyja, she had never expressed anger. Mild irritation, yes, but anything more had always been unattainable to her. The blatant emotion and her inability to control it surprised him.

“Why do you do this to us? To your friends? To your family? To me?” she whispered, before her voice rose with her temper. “I'm fighting a war, Loki. A war without a battlefield or even weapons. Since the fall of Vanaheim, I have been overwhelmed with emotions I cannot name and pushed past my limits on every plane. They cloud my judgment, twist my words until they are cruel, make peace and tranquility impossible to find. And nothing works against it! My world is crumbling down around me and I feel completely helpless to stop it!”

Her ferocity was beginning to scare him. She was expressing sentiments that she shouldn't have had the capacity to feel. Anger, jealousy, violence, they were all supposed to be impossible to experience by Vanir. But something had broken through five millennia's worth of sorcery, undoing the very magic that had been put in place after the Æsir-Vanir War, and exposed her to the foreign emotions.

“But no matter how much pain I receive, the worst of it is what you inflict upon me! You have hidden yourself behind a mask of brutality and malice. You use it to hide your emotions, your pain, your turmoil, but never like this. Afraid to show what you believe as weakness, you try to hide behind power.

“You once said you would never let me lose myself, but what about you? You're letting your pain blind you, Loki, blind you into believing power will give you what is needed. But power is a poison. With every struggle for it, another part of you dies. Every time you kill someone, you are dying inside yourself. The Loki I knew would have never given into such temptations. And do you know who I see in the mask you hide behind now?”

He remained silent, his strength drained, not wanting to hear the answer. For some reason, she was breaking him down unlike anyone else could. Freyja had always been able to cut through him until what was exposed was the raw truth. It didn’t, however, mean that he had wanted her to do so now.

“Do you know who I see?” she demanded.

“Please,” he whispered, desperately hoping she would drop the subject.

“I see Odin,” she answered, making him flinch. “I see a heartless, greedy king who hungers for bloodshed and supremacy. I see a man who would cut down anyone in his way, including those he loves. This is not you.

“I know you, the real you. What happened to the man I loved? The man who treasured knowledge and excelled in arts that required elegance and tact, who was content with watching from the sidelines, who relished working with simply his wit rather than a sword. I know he's still there. If he wasn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

He stared at the wall, not wanting to see the pain and questioning in her blue eyes. But he could feel her watching him. Worry, longing, and agony all emanated off of her in waves. Though he had never expected to see her again, he would have hoped their reunion would have been under better terms.

She sighed, her voice softening, “What happened to you, Loki?”

“I found out what blood truly runs through my veins,” he whispered. “It created a weakness in my mind, and allowed me to be manipulated.”

“Let me help you,” she whispered back, holding out her hand to him. “Perhaps we can fix this.”

He took it gently, tenderly, in the same manner as he had in the past, and she was no longer in the cell. The dungeons disappeared, transforming into Odin’s Vault.

_The hallway was lined with little alcoves in which priceless treasures sat, testaments to the All-Father’s reach. It was relatively dark within the cold walls, lit only by the flickering flames of sparsely placed torches, but she could see well enough. At the end stood a pedestal that held a glowing blue-white glass box that was all too familiar._

_Loki, a version which was closer to the one she had known in her youth, walked slowly towards the box that Freyja recognized as the Frost Giants' Casket of Ancient Winters. He gingerly took hold of the handles on the sides, lifting it off the pedestal, and his skin began to change to the bright blue of the Jötunns._

_“Stop!”_

_Freyja jumped at the sound of Odin's voice. She watched, biting back the all-consuming emotion she couldn't name at the sight of the man, as Loki stiffened._ It’s just a memory, _she reminded herself._

_“Am I cursed?”_

_“No.”_

_“What am I?” he asked as he replaced the Casket._

_“You are my son,” Odin answered without hesitation._

_Loki turned, his now red eyes burning with bitterness against his paling skin, “What more than that?”_

_Odin did not answer, but simply watched from where he stood as Loki began to walk towards him._

_“The Casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jötunheim, was it?” Loki asked, his voice soft as it always was when he was nearing rage._

_“No,” Odin said, hesitating slightly. “In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple, and I found a baby. Small, for a Giant's offspring, abandoned, suffering, left to die. Laufey's son.”_

_“Laufey’s son?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Why?” Loki's voice was full of sadness and confusion. “You were knee-deep in Jötunn blood, why would you take me?”_

_“You were an innocent child,” Odin replied, the lie causing a shiver to run down Freyja’s spine._

_“No. You took me for a purpose. What was it?”_

_Odin stood in silence as Freyja watched Loki's pain break through the last of his composure._

_“TELL ME!”_

_She flinched in pain that mirrored his, his emotion echoing through her in the shared memory. This was not the way she would have wanted him to find out. She should have told him when she had been told the truth. He was right, she decided, when he had said his pain was partially her fault._

_“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about a permanent peace, through you.”_

_“What?”_

_Freyja turned away, unable to bear the heartache in Loki's eyes. She felt helpless at the inability to comfort him. But the misery that tainted the entire memory was worse, like a knife plunged through her heart, and she couldn’t escape it._

_“But those plans no longer matter.”_

_“So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me.”_

_“Why do you twist my words?”_

_“You could have told me what I was from the beginning. Why didn't you?”_

_“You're my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”_

_“Why? Because I-I-I am the monster who parents tell their children about at night?”_

_“No,” Freyja said at the same time as Odin, but Loki continued as his pain turned to fury._

_“You know, it all makes sense now, why you favored Thor all these years. Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!”_

_Freyja steadied herself against the wall, Loki's anger magnifying her guilt as she realized a connection. She shook her head stubbornly, as if the connection would disappear, but her thoughts were only emphasized at the sound of Odin collapsing again the stone stairs._

And then, she was back in the cell. Loki had let go of her hand, a look of fear in his eyes, and he reached out cautiously for her arm. She stared at the floor as she stepped out of his reach, feeling guilty and disgusted with herself.

“Freyja? Are you – what is it?”

She shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks, “I- I'm sorry. I did this to you.”

She could feel the shock radiating from him as he asked, “What are you saying? This had nothing to do with you.”

“This is my fault,” she whispered, tears running down her cheeks.

“I fail to see how this is any fault of yours,” he continued.

“Forgive me, Loki,” she pleaded.

“Freyja,” he reached for her shoulder, pulling her close. “How could you possibly think this is your fault?”

He sat down on the bench, taking her with him. He stroked her hair with his long fingers, relishing the softness he hadn't felt since she left. One of the many things that amazed him about her was how her projections always felt real, in a way no Asgardian had accomplished, as if she were really there. He had missed their familiarity and the intimacy in their relationship. Even in the wake of their argument, there was the bond he knew would always be there.

“Do you recall when your father refused to send reinforcements to Vanaheim?” she asked, her voice carefully apathetic.

“Yes,” he whispered in her ear. “I will never forget.”

“Do you recall what I said to him?”

He slowed, thinking, “I believe so.”

“And I trust you know of the impact of curses spoken in my tongue? The gravity of the promises my people make.”

He stopped, looking at her even as she avoided his gaze, “I thought that was a myth.”

“When have you known a myth about my people to be false?”

The truth behind the stories of the Vanir had been one of the first things he had ever learned from her. It was one of the harder lessons to learn, but he accepted it readily. Despite this, he still found it difficult to wrap his mind around the fact that legends such as a Vanir’s curse was true, as such deeply-rooted magic seemed preposterous.

“Go on,” he whispered.

“You should be able to put the two together,” she whispered into his chest. “If you haven’t done so already.”

“You think that my actions stemmed from the words you spoke.”

It was not a question. He thought about that for a second as she nodded reluctantly, knowing in some part of himself that it was true. It was possible, now that he thought about it, that her curse could have come to reality by him finding the truth. After all, it had led him down a much darker road. But he did not blame her for that. She had spoken that night out of grief for her dying kin and could not have known what would happen.

He had not been the only one to be forced down the wrong road. As he looked at her, he once again saw the tell-tale signs of the weariness her own path had caused her. He wanted to make her smile. The overwhelming need to see her happy again, to see her eyes alight the way they had when they were young, gnawed at him relentlessly. She had been furious, agonized, and guilty since he had acknowledged her presence. Now he longed for the euphoria she brought when she was happy. The way he got drunk on her delight. He was ravenous for it.

“Perhaps you're right,” he breathed, angling her face towards his. “But it doesn't matter. What’s done is done, and you could have never known what exactly would happen.”

He brought his face down to hers and kissed her softly. She leaned in towards him, deepening the kiss. He allowed himself to tangle his fingers in the coils of her hair, relief washing through him when she reciprocated, as he traced her bottom lip with his tongue. Her tears had made her skin taste of salt, but he didn't mind. He could feel the bliss reverberating through her aura to the rhythm of her heartbeat.

He felt her fingers tracing over his lean muscles, following a path he knew was familiar to her. He always relished any time spent with her, though what he enjoyed most was unnamable to him. Perhaps it was the idea that she was forbidden, intended to be untouchable to him, and yet she was completely and solely his.  _What would Njord have done_ , he wondered idly,  _if he had found about us?_

One of his hands trailed down her spine, barely brushing across her skin, to the small of her back as he pulled her towards him. She shivered under his touch, and his lips trailed down the side of her chin to her neck.

“Loki,” she breathed as he nuzzled her neck.

He felt her gently pushing him away, leaving barely an inch between them, “Please don't make this harder for me than it already is.”

“You're right, I'm sorry,” he sighed into her ear. “How long will it be until you return?”

Sadness flashed in her eyes, “Loki…”

He pulled back slightly, realization washing over him, “You are coming back, are you not?”

She sighed, “I wish I could without bringing Thanos, as well.”

“Freyja, Asgard can hold its own against Thanos. Nothing will happen here. Pleases come back.”

He could see the indecision in her eyes when she spoke, “What would you do if you were me?”

He stopped, thinking over the question with care. He knew he couldn't tell her his answer, for he would stay away as well, and that would not further his argument. He would do anything to keep her safe, but he was powerless against this. And he could tell she already knew his true answer.

“When this is over, I swear I will atone for this.”

“Atone for it now,” he pleaded. “Come home.”

Her resolve was wavering, but something still seemed strong within her.

“And what will you do to reconcile for your wrongs?”

He buried his face against her shoulder again, “I will take whatever penance you deem worthy. Every day, I-”

She kissed him hungrily, a pang of regret tainting it. She had only kissed him so desperately once before, and he did not like the resemblance, as he knew exactly what it meant. The last time she kissed him like that had been the day she disappeared for two millennia.

“Don't leave me,” he whispered frantically, taking hold of her hand. “I can’t lose you again.”

She smiled in a bittersweet manner, “I will not lose me in such a way again. I will come back, I promise. When there is no more danger, I will return to you, and we will decide what will happen then.”

She let her fingers trail across his as she pulled away. He wanted to stop her, to keep her with him, but his body refused to respond. Seconds after she let go, her projection disappeared. Leaving him in the dark with an emptiness he couldn't bear.

Freyja opened her eyes and took a few deep breaths to steady herself. Her headache had gone, but now she was left shaken. Visiting Loki had been a mistake on her part, she realized, as now she wasn't sure she had the strength to make the choice she had to make. But she knew what she must do. If she chose to be happy again, she would lose so much more in the long run. The higher the level of bliss, she had found, the harder she fell when it was over. She couldn't lose him permanently.

And, yet, she couldn't stay away either. He needed her. And she needed to understand what exactly had happened. How could she continue when he had such a strong hold on her? He was like poison, her father had told her. But it seemed more as if he were sunlight: she would burn from too much exposure and fall ill from too little. She searched the possible futures, but could see no end to the madness.

No longer having any ideas on what to do, Freyja stood up and walked briskly inside. Tony, who was standing behind the holographic screen of his computers, looked up as she entered the room.

“Still have that headache?” he asked quizzically. “You've been out there for an hour.”

“The pain is gone,” she answered. “But I feel worse now than ever.”


	9. Chapter 8: Understanding the Misunderstood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to think about the impending future anymore, Freyja takes a day on the town with Steve.

_“One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood.”_

–Lucius Annaeus Seneca

* * *

 

The next morning's meditation didn't go any better. Freyja didn't visit Loki or check in on Thor, but she still couldn't concentrate. Her escapade with the youngest Asgardian prince the previous morning had dredged up old memories in the night that just made her feel worse about her situation. She had checked every strand of the future, just to be sure there was nothing she could do.

About a third of the threads were the results of her breaking down and returning to Asgard. None of those turned out well. One image was of her cradling Loki's body as blood slowly gushed from a long wound that spanned the length of his torso, the broken bodies of her friends surrounding her. Another showed her broken on the floor with Thanos in possession of the Tesseract. Then there was the one where Thor was impaled on a spear, his hammer laying useless next to him. An alternative version where everyone was in chains, waiting in line for their execution. Then, most disturbingly, a vision of herself chained to the ground, surrounded by what looked like the ruins of Asgard, as Thanos sat on a throne of gold.

The rest, excluding one she had yet to riddle out, were visions of what would happen if she continued running. She saw herself in her various forms in different worlds. In each one, she looked as though she had been pushed closer and closer to the brink of sanity. A few showed narrow escapes as Thanos tried to trap her. The majority seemed to show what would come once she had lost her mind after a few more millennia. None of them seemed to have an end.

The last one that didn't seem to fit into either of the categories was convoluted beyond recognition. A dead Jötunn who had fatal burns across her chest lay on the flagstones of Asgard’s streets as Freyja kneeled over her with an enraged expression. The image was replaced by her locked in a mental battle with the Eternal Thanos, tears rolling down her face for some inexplicable reason. And then the final vision, the one which shook her to her core, came into view. She lay on the cold streets of Asgard, eyes open and unseeing, in a pool of her own blood. Loki, his Æsir form stripped away to reveal his blue skin, was falling forward until he was almost draped across her, looking too close to death for her comfort. More importantly, Asgard was burning around them. Freyja had no idea what path would bring her to those realities.

None of them were acceptable in her eyes, none of them were optimistic. But, then again, time had made her a realist and so she didn't believe in a perfect scenario. Perfection, an aspect her people had strived for, was something she didn't believe in. Just as she didn't believe in the apathy her people had clung to so desperately. The more she looked back on it, the more she realized that there had been many aspects of her people that she did not agree with. But she had still been crushed when her people had been all but wiped out.

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. The skies were almost completely clear, obscured only by the occasional wispy cloud that drifted lazily across the blue. It was a dull color compared to the brilliance of the Vanaheim skies, much more so in comparison to Asgard’s miasma of stars, though she still thought it was beautiful in its own right. If there was one thing she missed about her home, it was the stark contrast between the sable colors of the Vanir and the vivid hues that made up the world they lived in. But that no longer existed. Vanaheim had become a wasteland of browns and greys.

It hurt to think she would never see that beauty again. Never confide her doubts in her brother again. Never fix the shattered remains of her relationship with her father. All of her friends were dead, all of her family. It hurt so much that she felt as if her heart was being ripped out. The only cure to the ache, as she had recently found out, was Loki. Or the Loki she had known before, it would seem. But the man she had known was buried somewhere beneath the pain and anger.

When she had first met Loki, he had exposed her for the first time to emotions and the simple happiness in everyday life. He was the one to show her that there was more to life than doing as she was told and keeping herself empty of everything, that she was allowed to have an opinion of her own and that some rules were made to be broken. And she slowly adapted to the change, along with the other Vanir that spent most of their time in Asgard. He was an intense light that burned through the darkness of her rigid upbringing and everything that had haunted her. In only a few years, he had broken through the chains her father had placed around their lives and returned the Vanir to their original culture. He was the cure to anything that ailed her. And that man was almost gone.

Unable to continue meditating while getting nothing done, Freyja stood up and walked back into the building. Stark had left for some meeting, leaving her with a warning not to leave the building, and Thor had taken Jane out for the day. She was alone with her thoughts in a city that was so different from what she’d known. So perhaps a day out on the streets was what she needed to get her mind off matters, regardless of what Tony had said.

“Ma'am, Sir has given me strict orders not to allow you to leave,” Jarvis said the second she pushed the button for the elevator.

“If you don't allow me to leave this way, I will simply jump off the balcony,” she answered. “I can assure you that I will survive the fall.”

She heard the glass door lock and knew what he would say even before it echoed through the room, “I cannot allow you to leave.”

“Fine. Make this difficult for yourself, but I will not be held prisoner again,” she muttered, placing her hand on the cool surface of the metal wall.

Wisps of her silver aura trailed from her fingers as she allowed them to follow the wires that led to Jarvis's mainframe. She wasn't particularly familiar with Earth's technology, as it was eons behind what she had used on Vanaheim, but she found it easier to manipulate than she had originally thought. She smiled, thinking how it was too easy to tweak Tony’s AI system.

The door to the elevator slid open without so much as a complaint from Jarvis and she stepped in, pushing the button for the ground floor of the Avengers Tower. She was both surprised and pleased with the advances the humans had made since she had last been there. Asgard was a world trapped in time, with customs that came out of the past. Although it was quaint and refreshing, she preferred the modern and antiquated mix of Vanaheim, even if she did not agree with the customs her father had instilled in the people. But that fact that Earth kept few ties to its own past was a pleasant surprise.

She stepped out as soon as the doors opened, nodding to the blonde-haired woman behind the front desk. Freyja found Midgardian fashion strange but oddly comfortable despite most of it being relatively loose-fitting. Leather seemed to be reduced to jackets or boots and metal wasn't worn in any form besides jewelry. She had found that while Tony wore silk shirts or cotton tees, many others did not. She had been glad when he lent her some clothes he received from a woman named Pepper Potts.

Today she had picked out a button down white blouse, blue jeans, and her knee-high riding boots, which she had managed to salvage from the wreckage of her ship. As she walked out onto the sidewalk outside, she looked around at her surroundings, noticing how a few people watched her as she walked by. Large screens flashing advertisements of random Midgardian objects adorned various buildings. People bustled through the streets, talking into devices and yelling at others around them. Cars zoomed by in all colors and shapes. She could, unfortunately, smell the chemicals on the air.

Another thing she missed about Vanaheim: the lack of pollution. Humans had yet to find a clean source of anything besides Tony's arc reactor and a few other innovations that he had informed her about. She had stayed with Tony and Bruce the day before, watching how they worked through the problems they faced in their lab. It had been surprising to her that the humans took the long way to solve everything. She had given them a few postulates and theorems which she knew could be of help to them, gaining their interest, and had launched into a lecture as to how they were true afterward. It had sparked a conversation in the science of her own people, which quickly became about biology and then led to Bruce asking for a sample of her blood.

She had let him take a sample, explaining the anomaly of her ever-changing molecular structure as he did so. Both men had been startled at the instability of her genetic code but had accepted her answer with ease when she told them. She found that while Tony was skeptical and joking, Bruce was much easier to talk to because of his sincerity and acceptance. He reminded her of Animi, an old friend who had long since died, and she found she could almost forget that Bruce wasn’t him. It was easier to be more open with him as he didn't judge her.

Shaking her head to clear it of the errant thoughts, she focused on weaving her way through the ever-shifting crowds. She rather enjoyed the anonymity that greeted her on Earth. No one bowed or moved away when she walked by. It was invigorating, she thought gleefully, to simply be another person rather than the Princess of Vanaheim. It was always so much easier to hide on Earth because of their lack of knowledge of her identity. No whispers of her whereabouts reached Thanos's ears when she stayed briefly on Midgard, as no one had a clue as to who she was.

What did bother her was the amount of tragedy that laced the human's world. There was so much pain, so many needless deaths, it disgusted her. Where the Vanir only fought as a last resort, and the Asgardians made sparring a game, death seemed to be a sport on Earth. The malignant thoughts that swirled in the some of the humans' minds were sickening. And although many human lives that were lost lay etched into her Dwarven armbands, she couldn't count the number of humans she had saved from themselves.

“Freyja?” a voice behind her said, catching her by surprise and ending her morbid thoughts.

She turned to find Captain Steve Rogers walking towards her with a surprised expression. Though she couldn’t put into words as to why, she felt a similar comfort around Steve as she had around Bruce. He reminded her of the age of chivalry, which she had found was dwindling on Earth, and she got the impression that he was the type to stand up for those he knew. She offered him a smile, waving him over.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “I thought you were staying in for the day.”

She raised her eyebrows, “Am I not allowed to go out on my own? Can I truly not go walking when the notion pleases me?”

He shook his head, “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just heard that you were supposed to stay in Avengers Tower.”

She scowled, “I do not enjoy being told what to do. I will follow instruction, if I believe it necessary, but I don't believe a walk will cause any harm.”

He smiled, “I understand. When I first woke up here, I didn't put up with them trying to keep me inside, either.”

“Woke up here?” she asked. “I was under the impression that you were born in this city.”

He shook his head, hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, “Remember when I told you that you wouldn't believe my story?”

“I do.”

“I'm from the 1940's, originally,” he told her. “I was frozen for almost seventy years and only woke up last year.”

He was silent while he waited for her response. Looking him up and down, and taking in the almost earnest expression on his face, Freyja realized that he was being entirely serious. Though she had never heard of a human living quite so long, it was certainly not the strangest thing to behold. She was quiet for a few minutes before bursting out into laughter.

“Is something funny?” he asked, visibly taken aback by her reaction.

“Simply the idea that you thought I would not believe your story,” she sighed as she stopped laughing. “I am a nearly three thousand-year-old, by your standards, shape-shifting sorceress who has seen every Realm at various points in time and you assumed that I would not believe you to be older than you look? Do I look as old as I truly am?”

He turned red, “No, ma'am.”

“Please do not call me that. I may be a princess, and much older than you, but I am not above you in any sense of the word.”

He blinked in surprise at that, taking a second to think about her reasoning.

“Is something strange?” she asked.

“I – well, sort of. I expected you to be more…stuck up, I guess.”

“I don't believe in social hierarchies,” she explained. “I see all people as equals. After all, what would make me better than you in the end?”

He shrugged, “Aren't you stronger than us?”

“I am physically stronger, faster, and more versatile than your kind, but the Asgardians are stronger still. I heal faster, use the full capacity of my mind, wield magic, change my form, and manipulate the mind. I may be more adept but I am not above you.”

“I see your point,” he admitted. “I guess I’ve been expecting someone kind of like Thor and Loki.”

She smiled, choosing to change the subject, “You are a soldier, are you not?”

He nodded, “I fought in World War Two against the Nazis and a group called HYDRA.”

“I haven't the slightest idea of what you are speaking of.”

“I forgot you haven't been here in…How long, exactly?”

“I believe the year was 1915, give or take a year. Things are very different now than they were then.”

He whistled, “That’s not too long before I was frozen. Wasn’t that one of the years of the Great War?”

She nodded, “It was for that reason that I chose not to stay long. I have been one for violence, particularly war.”

“I thought Thor and his friends used to seek out violence.”

“They did. For a long time, I did not join them,” she told him. “But they came back one day and Fandral was close to death. After that, I went with them whenever I could, if only to make sure they were safe. I never wanted to lose any of them.”

Steve glanced at her out the corner of his eyes, “Did you ever lose one?”

“None of the friends I shared with Thor. I have known many people, some of whom are dead now, but I try my best not to dwell upon them unless it is to remember them fondly. It is depressing, to know that those you love must die as you live on.”

He looked down, “I know what you mean.”

She looked at him, “Forgive me. I did not think to consider the friends you have lost in your time.”

“It's alright,” he told her. “I was just thinking of Bucky.”

“Bucky?”

“A childhood friend of mine.”

She scrutinized him, “He sounds more akin to a brother than a friend, if you don’t mind my saying.”

He sighed, a smile playing across his lips, “You’re right. He looked after me for a long time, tried keeping me out of trouble. If he had still been alive at the time, he probably would have been there when I crashed.”

“Crashed?”

“I crashed a plane into the ocean to save New York – and a lot of other cities, too. There didn’t seem to be a better solution at the time.”

“Sacrificing your life for the good of the majority,” Freyja sighed. “That is a story I know too well.”

He glanced at her, taking in her solemn expression, “You've seen it before?”

She laughed humorlessly, “I have done the same thing. I was in love, still am to be truthful, but I chose to give up such a gift to protect him. I originally left to fight with my people, but I never made it. It was only after the destruction that I found that if I wanted to keep him and his world alive, I would have to stay away. The Tesseract, I was supposed to guard it. I hid it here so that if I was ever caught, no one could take it. I have been running from Realm to Realm since.”

“What _is_ the Tesseract?”

She shook her head, “If I told you, I would put your life in danger beyond your wildest imagination. It is better to stay ignorant of its purpose. Look at me – I know all of its secrets and, in attempt to gain those, my enemies have ripped my life away from me. I have permanently lost my family and my people, I cannot go to my love without fear I shall bring death, as well, and I cannot even stay in one place for more than a fortnight at the very most. All I have left is my identity and my goal. I must continue running for eternity to protect the safety of every living creature on the Yggdrasil.”

He tried desperately to find something to say, but what could he possibly say to that? He had sacrificed himself for the good of the country and she was giving up her life for the existence of the universe. She truly had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“Is there no way to change things?”

“I foresee no answers to this. I have an eternity of running before me, I can do nothing but hope the fates are kind,” she said. “Do not pity me, Steve Rogers. I do not despair for my future, so I ask you do the same.”

He nodded, deciding he could respect that, “Can I ask you a question? It's kind of off topic.”

“Ask anything you wish to.”

“You're not really a goddess, are you?”

She giggled, unable to help herself, “Of course not. I am simply of another species. We were worshipped for our strength and magic by your ancestors, but neither the Æsir nor the Vanir were gods. My people believed we were created by a single, all-knowing being we call _Sophossentia,_ which loosely translates into the ‘Wise One’.”

“Like God?”

“I believe it is the same being, just named differently. But the Asgardians believe in another story.”

“Huh. I never would have pegged you as a Christian.”

“A what?”

“Never mind,” he said with a shake his head. “So, what's your story?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, different religions here have different stories of how people were created. I was just wondering-”

“What our origin story is,” she nodded understandingly. “Our story goes that _Sophossentia_ created seven worlds of different species, all created for a purpose in the Divine Plan. Despite his creations, he found he needed another species to moderate the others. So he created the Vanir out of wind and stars, making us both beautiful and terrifying in our abilities. We had more restraint than the rest of the species, and were given a land more beautiful than anything he had created before when we proved our generosity.”

“That’s a beautiful belief.”

“Not everyone would think so,” she sighed. “It wasn't long before the Asgardians waged war against us. We nearly destroyed each other. The Asgardians prefer to think the war ended in a truce but, in reality, we broke through their defenses and offered them a chance for forgiveness. We made a treaty: we would not enter the minds of others' and they would not harm us. Though we never broke the treaty, as my kind is bound by our words, some of the choices we made in upholding it were wrong.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm?” she looked at him, pulled away from her reverie.

“What did you do that you shouldn't have?”

She laughed, “Where to begin? For a race that claims to be wise, we have made many foolish mistakes. I suppose the first and largest was extracting our negative emotions and suppressing the rest.”

“What?”

“After the second war, we began believing the devastation we created stemmed from our emotions. In order to prevent such disasters, my father developed a technique which extracts emotions such as anger, jealousy, vanity, and battle-lust. We then snuffed out the rest of our emotions until we were all but stone. Nothing could hurt us, but nothing could make us happy, either.”

He looked her up and down, “But you feel things, don't you? You don't seem…emotionless.”

“Courtesy of Asgard,” she explained with a smile. “The few that lived in Asgard, and the other Realms, as ambassadors became open to emotions. It's impossible to live among people who are so driven by their emotions and remain hollow. After I myself had tasted happiness, I refused to continue driving it away.”

“When was that?”

“Why the curiosity in my life?” she laughed.

He shrugged, “I guess it's because it's refreshing to be around another person who doesn't come from this time.”

“I understand. Despite the advancement of Vanaheim, I do find this era very peculiar. What was it you asked?”

“When was the first time you felt happiness?”

She smiled, “Ah, yes. I was seven years of age. Loki and I had snuck out of the palace one full moon and stargazed from the Bifrost, the rainbow bridge that acts as a gateway to the other worlds. I had felt contentment before, and relief, but that was the first time I felt true happiness.”

“You were friends with Loki?”

“I know what you must feel towards Loki, as I have heard what he did here, but he was not the same then. You must understand, he was the smaller, the younger, and the weaker than the rest of his people. He was misunderstood by the others because he was fonder of books than swords and could barely lift a hammer. He could take quite a few hits, though. If anything, he was resilient.”

“I know what it's like to be the weaker man,” Steve pointed out. “I wasn't always like this. I was constantly being underestimated, told I was too small, too weak, to do much of anything. I can't even count the times I was beat up. All this,” – he gestured at himself – “came from an experimental serum.”

She nodded, “Then you understand where he came from, at the very least. I cannot justify his actions, but I can tell you what led him to them. On top of living in his brother's shadow, he found out that he was lied to since he was a child. Everything that he thought was real, even his identity, was false. He lost sight of himself and so fell prey to darker instincts.”

“What was he like? Before finding out the truth, I mean.”

“He was very quiet and secretive at first. But he opened up to me unlike anyone else. We understood each other, and became very close as a result. I was a repressed princess, a captive to my father's ways, and he was a misunderstood prince with self-regard issues. When we were together, we felt as if we actually belonged somewhere. We felt as though we had found a home at last.

“When he was around me, he was significantly happier. The Loki I knew was compassionate, analytical, curious, loyal, and free-spirited. I was drawn to his vivacity like a moth to a flame, longing for what I had never experienced. He showed me what life could be and I showed him that strength can come in many forms.”

“You taught him magic,” he guessed. “Do you ever regret it?”

She was silent for a second, thinking it through, “No. He found delight in magic. It gave him something that he was superior at. If he did not have that outlet, his reaction to his own doubts would have been exponentially worse. With magic, he has a way to see his own self-worth.”

“I can respect that.”

She smiled, “You might be the only one.”

“You seem to care about him a lot.”

“He means a great deal to me,” Freyja said shortly. “He is practically family, just as Thor is.”

A few minutes of silence passed between the two of them as Steve realized he had somehow reached an uncomfortable topic. He racked his brain for something to say, if only to ease the tension. His eyes scanned over their surroundings, which had changed drastically as they walked, before he got a halfway decent idea.

“Are you hungry?” he asked weakly.

“A little,” she conceded.

“I know a great pizza joint not too far from here.”

A look of confusion crossed her face as she looked at him, “What is pizza?”

He opened and closed his mouth without a sound, unable to come up with a response in his surprise. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't come up with an answer, and soon he simply gave up.

“It's easier just to show you,” he finally managed.

“I should let you know that I do not eat meat,” she told him. “For religious reasons, I suppose you could say.”

He shrugged, “That's alright. We can just get cheese.”

* * *

There were easily over a dozen independent pizzerias in New York that were simply known as Ray’s Pizza. It was one of the most confusing things Steve had ever heard of, which had not existed in his time, especially since they all claimed to be the first establishment of that name. But out of all of them, he had found his favorite was neither ‘Original Ray’s’ nor ‘World Famous Original Ray’s’. His favorite was _Not Ray’s Pizza_ at 694 Fulton Street. Steve opened the door for Freyja as they reached the place, seemingly surprising her with the gesture.

“What's wrong?” he laughed. “You act like you didn't know we had manners.”

“I have seen an appalling lack of them since I came,” she admitted.

“I’ll admit, common courtesy isn't exactly common anymore.”

She followed him silently, watching in silence as he ordered a medium cheese pizza and two soft drinks. The place was relatively small, but it was thankfully cool inside despite the summer heat, and Freyja found she rather liked the ambiance.

“Have you ever had soda?” Steve asked, handing her a paper cup.

“No.”

“Do you feel like trying something new?”

She smiled at that, and Steve got the sense that there was a double meaning to her words, “You'll find I'm open to many things.”

He gestured for her to sit down while he got the food. Taking the chair across from her, he placed the tray down on the table and took a slice from the half-opened box. He watched her quietly as she hesitantly bit into her first slice. It must have been good, he thought, as she had already eaten four slices by the time he had finished with two.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, trying not to laugh at his expression.

“I-I've just never seen a woman eat so much.”

She burst into laughter, “Do women not eat here?”

“No, I mean- I meant,” he desperately backtracked, trying to think of a better way to phrase what he had said.

“Don’t trouble yourself. My metabolism runs faster than a human’s due to the amount of energy it takes to wield magic. As a matter of fact, I cannot gain weight. My cells use up most of the energy from the food I eat. Very little is actually stored.”

“Oh. I'm sorry, by the way. I didn't mean to be rude.”

“You weren't. I do not believe in condemning people simply because of curiosity.”

She took a sip of her soda, immediately crying out in surprise. Her hand flew to her mouth, a look of surprise on her face.

“It bit me,” she exclaimed softly.

He tried not to laugh as he realized what she was talking about, “That's the carbonation.”

She eyed the drink suspiciously, “Why would you want to have a drink that bites?”

“I don't know,” he admitted. “I don't even think about it, generally. I guess I'm just used to it.”

He continued with his slice of pizza. Freyja didn't touch her soda again, but looked down at the last two pieces in the box. She hadn’t been using magic often in the recent days but, given that she was planning to leave sometime soon, she might need the extra energy. Steve pushed it closer to her before she could ask.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I’m guessing magic takes a lot out of you.”

She smiled in thanks, taking a slice, “You have no idea.”

He said nothing in return, and neither did she, as both were thinking of the implications of what wasn’t being said. Steve had never been one to sit back quietly as someone suffered, but he also knew he was incapable of helping Freyja any more than he already was. Of course, she was very much aware of his thoughts, so open was his aura. She still appreciated the gesture. After all, it wasn’t often that she made friends anymore.


	10. Chapter 9: Insincere Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to get answers the conventional way, Tony decides to take drastic measures to find the truth.

_“A woman's life can really be a succession of lives, each revolving around some emotionally compelling situation or challenge, and each marked off by some intense experience.”_

–Wallis Simpson

* * *

 

Tony came home late in the evening to find Freyja outside on the metal overhang, seemingly meditating. He had found out that she always meditated at dawn and again at dusk, usually spending an hour, or more depending on how the day had gone. She was always unresponsive when he found her meditating. Regardless of how he tried to distract her, and he had gone so far as to fly circles around her in his suit once, he never got a reaction from her. It was almost as if she was no more than an empty shell.

He had been searching for days for information on her, puzzled and curious about the secrets she kept. A quick search through the S.H.I.E.L.D. database revealed that they, too, had little information of the Vanir goddess. And if that was true, Tony knew Fury was likely to be fuming. That made him all the more curious. How many aspects of her life did she hide and, better yet, why did she hide them? So far, none of the information he _could_ glean was stable. Her life was an enigma he wanted to solve.

He glanced outside at her figure again, just to make sure she wasn’t moving, as he asked,  “Jarvis, how long has Freyja been out there?”

“No more than five minutes, sir.”

“Perfect,” he smiled as he walked down the hall towards her room.

It was the first time Tony had actually set foot in her room, as he did have some limitations. However, his curiosity was getting the better of him so he was going to bend the rules a bit. She was incredibly, and somewhat annoyingly, neat with her room. Everything had a specific place, nothing was ever off by so much as an inch. He grimaced at the sight. This meant that he would have to be careful when rifling through her belongings, as she would know if he had moved anything.

The first thing he looked at was her strange tablet-like computer made of diamond. He tapped the surface twice, watching as the screen flickered to life. It was password protected, and not in English, either. But it seemed the spell she had placed on him before still worked, as the elegant glyphs gave a little shudder after a second before he found they changed to English. That still didn’t help him figure out what her password was. He stared at the letters on the screen, noting that some of the letters of the alphabet were missing while others were combined, and wondered as to what she would use to protect the tablet.

Pulling out a small silver circle, he attached it to the back of the diamond slab. He raised his eyebrows as the screen turned red and shook in his hands. This was the first time JARVIS hadn't been able to hack into any computer system, which sparked both intrigue and irritation in him. Guessing that he probably would waste time trying to open it, as there was no way of potentially decrypting the protection on a piece of technology that didn’t have a visible motherboard, he replaced it on the bedside table and walked around the room in search of something else.

While he walked, he thought of the various hints she had given him. Each of her rings stood for a title she possessed: one that claimed her as the sister of the crowned prince, one for being an ambassador to Asgard, another for being a master sorceress, one for being named the goddess of love and beauty, the gold band with silver glyphs embedded into its surface that he didn't know what it meant, and the strange ring that looked as if someone had taken a solid chunk of emerald and cut it into a ring. He had listened intently as she had explained their meaning to Bruce after he had asked about her people’s culture. Her silver circlet marked her as a member of the royal family, her necklace a memento of her dead mother, her rune-engraved bracelet a gift from a friend, and her golden armbands a gift from some Dwarven brothers. The cape of feather was –

 _The cape!_ He had forgotten about the mysterious cloak that had seemingly transported him into what he could only guess was her past. She hadn't been wearing it recently, so it must be in the room somewhere. He walked over to the closet, throwing the door open to check, but found it relatively empty. The only things in the closet were the random clothes Pepper had bought for her as well as an old-fashioned tunic and leather pants that looked as if they were centuries old. He guessed that they probably were.

Where would she keep a cloak of falcon feathers? The question circled around his head, almost mockingly, as he glanced around. He checked through the drawers only to find them empty. She was hiding it, and people only hide things for fear of someone finding something they shouldn’t, he reasoned. There was only one place left he could check. Sure enough, when he kneeled down to look, it was folded neatly under the bed.

He pulled it out, unfolding it carefully to make sure he didn’t accidentally pull out any of the feathers. They were in perfect condition as if they had just been collected and washed. Each one was pure white and flawlessly straight. The cloak was also forked, as he had not realized before, and shaped to look almost like wings.

He ran his fingers over the edge of one of the feathers as he had before, but nothing happened. Was there a trick to it? He tried to think of what he had done differently. It couldn't have anything to do with Bruce – the very idea was ridiculous and didn’t make any sense. He doubted it had anything to do with Freyja, either.

“What are you hiding?” he muttered, trying to think of what was different.

And then, just as the words left his mouth, it happened. The sensation of falling was incredible and sickening at the same time. He felt as if he would throw up as colors, shapes, and sounds swirled around him like a hurricane. When his vision finally settled and he could stand up straight without wanting to be sick, he looked around.

He was out in the woods near a lake, silver and gold towers loomed in the distance. A younger Freyja stood at the water’s edge next to a person who could only have been a younger Loki. She loosened the ties on the front of the leather corset she wore over her blue dress, slipping it over her skirt and off, causing Tony to raise his eyebrows. He didn’t know much about Asgardian or Vaniric customs, but he was willing to be that they found it appropriate to randomly undress in front of men in public.

“Freyja! What in the name of the Nine Realms are you doing?” Loki exclaimed, turning red in the face.

She slipped her dress off next, revealing the white floor-length chemise underneath, “I am going for a swim.”

Without waiting for a reply, she dove into the water, surfacing a minute later. Loki gaped at her, his hand over his mouth as he walked in a small circle as though flustered and unsure as to what he should do. Freyja grinned at him as she pushed the hair from her eyes.

“Do come in, Loki. The water is marvelous.”

Loki looked as if he was even more baffled by the request. Tony guessed his previous assumption was right, and he chuckled at the sight of the mischief god who was so different from the one who’d attacked New York. Loki's pale face had turned bright red and he tried to look elsewhere as if embarrassed to look straight at her.

“No, I think I'll stay here and wait for you to finish,” he said, his words almost forced.

“If you don't, I shall be forced to drag you in. Leather, metal, and all,” she threatened playfully.

He met her eyes instantly, doubt and alarm in his expression, “You wouldn't...”

“Try me.”

He sighed, pulling off his boots, “I'm only doing this because Father will skin me alive if I ruin another set of armor.”

She grinned and dove back underwater as he stripped down to his black leather pants. He walked slowly into the water and peered around in the water as if looking for her. Tony watched as he jumped, crying out in surprise as he fell into the water with a splash. Freyja broke through the surface as he lost his footing and fell. He sat, looking slightly irritated, half in the water as she laughed.

“I cannot believe you are so easily frightened,” she giggled. “I merely grabbed your leg. What did you think it was? A serpent?”

For a second, Tony was certain that Loki might strike her. That was, after all, what the Loki he knew would have done. But a grin split the young god’s face before he started laughing, too. He splashed her with a flick of his wrist and she ducked away.

“Catch me if you can,” she dared, sinking under the water once more.

And once again, Tony was falling through air as the scene swirled together into something new. He was in what looked like a large metal seaport, and somewhat like it had come out of a sci-fi movie, that was almost empty. Strange aircraft of all sorts lined the edges. A large silver plane-like ship stood at the opening, which looked like a larger version of what S.H.I.E.L.D. record stated Freyja flew. A roughly thirteen-year-old Freyja and Loki stood a few feet from the metal ramp that led to the ship.

Loki pulled a purple velvet bag off of his leather belt, handing it to her sheepishly, “I got you something: a little farewell gift.”

She pulled the golden cords that kept it closed to reveal a small silver bracelet studded with emeralds and adorned with Nordic symbols. Her eyes widened as she examined it, her lips parting in surprise.

“If you ever miss me on your travels, I thought this could help remind you,” he explained, rubbing his wrists nervously. “Even if you don't miss me, just don't forget about me, okay?”

She threw her arms around him, clasping the bracelet in her hand, “Of course I will miss you. I won't forget about you, either. I promise.”

Loki seemed to freeze in shock for a minute, but his expression slowly changed to a bittersweet happiness and he returned her embrace.

She let go, backing away a step, “Thank you, Loki. Keep practicing your magic.”

“Freyja!” a man called from the ship. “We must leave now. Your father is waiting.”

“Just six years. Write to me!” she said before turning and running up the ramp.

Loki watched sadly as she disappeared into the plane, his smile falling as soon as she turned away.

And Tony was plunged once more into the fray of colors and shapes that swirled into chaos before solidifying into something new. He was now in an empty hall that looked as if it was made of gold and copper. Silver pillars lined the edges of the room, looking as if they were only for decoration than for support. Freyja, now about nineteen, was leaning against one of the pillars, wearing a blue cloth tunic, dark brown leather pants, jerkin and boots, as she watched Loki fight a few other Asgardians.

Several different hues of a smoke-like substance trailed from their fingertips and filled the room. Forest green mingled with navy blue, bright orange, and canary yellow across the floors. Daggers of colored energy flashed through the air, either dodged or blocked by mentally created bubble-like shields.

“Alfons, you need to try to be quicker. You're barely avoiding becoming riddled with wounds,” Freyja said over the din. “Kylan, you need to work on your aim. Keep both eyes open and your attacks will actually hit what you aim for. Magni, do try to be more creative with your attacks. A sorcerer never goes for the most obvious chance. And Loki-”

Loki turned to face her, but was thrown backwards by a ray of light. He fell to the floor, sliding to a stop ten feet away from where he originally stood. Freyja stepped the three feet between them, her hands on her hips, and leaned forward until her face was above his.

“For the sake of Yggdrasil, pay attention to what you're doing,” she sighed exasperatedly. “How many times must I tell you, never take your mind off the task at hand? Also, Kylan, that was an excellent shot. Much better.”

“Forgive me,” Loki said as he stood up. “I shall endeavor do better.”

“I should hope so,” she replied.

_Out of all of my students, you have the most potential. You are creative, daring, methodical, and willing to adapt your style at any opportune moment. If you weren't so easily distracted, you would be a master by now._

Tony frowned as her voice echoed through his head and, despite there being no proof, he somehow knew that Loki had also heard it. A small smile crossed the god’s face, making his green eyes shine.

The fight continued, this time more chaotically as each one tried to follow her instructions. Freyja grinned, an almost devious light in her eyes, and dug through a velvet pouch tied to her belt.

“Think fast,” she called, tossing a small round object into the fray.

The little circle seemed to grow, parts of it unfolding, whirring, and rotating. Loki's eyes widened as he caught sight of the orb. He kicked it frantically to the side with his foot, but a burgundy-haired young man picked it up and tossed it at the blonde with the bowl cut. The third man, a twenty-year-old with a shaved head, tossed a knife at it in midair.

“No!” Freyja yelled, throwing her hand out as she leapt forward.

The orb was suddenly back in her hand, the knife embedded deep into the surface. It ticked angrily as if it was alive. She tossed it up into the air the second she could, waving her hand so that an invisible force pushed it higher, where it exploded filling the air with a plume of grey smoke. With the flick of her wrist, silver coils of wind blew the smoke out the door and windows.

“Alfons, that was not what I meant when I said to quicken your reflexes. If this had been a true fight, you would have killed everyone. The rest of you, good job, but remember to what I said. Acting before thinking might work in regular battle but, if you're up against a sorcerer, you're going to need to consider your actions before you go through with them. Dismissed.”

The four bowed, panting, before Kylan, Alfons, and Magni left the room. Loki walked over to Freyja, a thin sheen of sweat across his face and neck.

“Did you truly mean that?”

She laughed, “Of course. I will never understand why Asgardians only think of the consequences after their actions have been committed.”

“Not that. I meant about myself having the most potential.”

She nodded, “You will be ready to face the Council within a fortnight.”

“The Council?” he echoed, a worried expression crossing his face.

“I'll accompany you, of course, to give you the last of my advice.”

“Are they truly as intimidating as you say?”

She considered this, “Believe you me, they are unlike anyone you have ever met.”

And the scene caved in on itself as it transformed again. He was now on a large slab of glass or diamond, he wasn’t sure which, that flickered with various colors. The stars surrounded him on all sides, but he could see the gold and silver buildings of the city to his right and a golden dome-shaped building to his left. Loki and Freyja sat on the edge of the slab, legs dangling over the edge. The only light came from the full moon above them.

“Tell me again your story of the stars,” Loki said softly.

Freyja laughed, “Do you never tire of hearing it? I must have told you a dozen times now.”

“I never tire of you telling it. You are a very good story-weaver.”

“What if I told you a different story?”

“One I haven't heard?” he raised his eyebrows. “Alright.”

“Long before the Nine Realms were created, but before there were stars in the sky, _Sophossentia_ created six Entities which were to instigate His divine plan. Their names were Eternity, Infinity, Oblivion, Death, Galactus, and the Never Queen. Though only two shared common blood, they all considered each other family. And, like all families, they had their own troubles. Particularly when they learned of the love Eternity and the Never Queen shared.”

“This story sounds familiar,” he laughed.

“Don't interrupt,” she scolded, though she sounded more like she was teasing him.

“Forgive me, do continue.”

“Though Infinity’s twin sister, Eternity, condoned the courtship, Oblivion did not. He attempted to persuade them to cast aside their emotions, but failed to make any change. They wanted to be together, in whatever way they could, but that frightened him. He loved Infinity like a brother and was afraid of losing him to the Never Queen.”

“Did he want Infinity as his own lover?”

“No, Loki. He was afraid that Infinity was capable of loving someone more than him.

“Now, to find a way to separate the two, Oblivion employed the help of Death. As she had always loathed the two for interfering with her work, it was easy for him to manipulate her hatred. She was sent to destroy the Never Queen as Oblivion distracted Infinity and Eternity.”

“What did Infinity do when he learned of the betrayal?

“Well, the Never Queen was the embodiment of all possibilities. Had she been allowed to die completely, all things which were to happen would never be, which Eternity explained to Death. She regretted her actions when she understood and helped Eternity to scatter pieces her soul across time.

“Infinity, whose love for his brother was now replaced by hatred, chased Oblivion across the void. He trapped Oblivion in the darkest corner of the void as he could not bring himself to kill his brother. With his search for vengeance over, he found little reason to exist. But Infinity could not simply take his own life or _everything_ would cease to be. So, after much coercion, Eternity gave him the same fate as the Never Queen, creating the universe as we know it.”

“What happened in the end?”

She shrugged, “No one is certain. Some believe that the pieces of his soul seek out those of the Never Queen’s. Others believe they exist only abstractly. We will never know, as Eternity, Galactus, and Death have not been seen since the dawn of creation.”

“Hmm. Shall we create an ending for them?”

“It doesn’t work that way, Loki,” she sighed.

“Why not?”

“Because you cannot change history.”

Loki gave a hesitant nod, turning his gaze out towards the stars, “What do you believe happened?”

She smiled, “I like to think that each piece of their souls are out there, seeking each other out still.”

“Two beings searching for each other throughout all of time and space,” he mused. “You always were a hopeless romantic, Freyja.”

The goddess scoffed, giving him a playful push as though trying to act as if he had offended her. Loki gave her a shove back and the two broke into laughter.

The scene shifted, and Tony found that he didn't feel so nauseated by the change. Was he getting used to the transitions? This time he was in a long hall made of marble. A tall, thin man, at least Tony thought it looked vaguely masculine, with blue-black skin and silver eyes sat on a large throne made of marble. He was oddly proportioned, looking as if someone had stretched too far, leaving him angular and skeletal. His black hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck. In front of him, a similar being stood. Tony nearly gaped in horror at the sight of the two, uncertain of whether they were oddly beautiful or absolutely terrifying.

The other creature was tall, slender and angular as well, but its skin was a shade paler than the man's. Its eyes were a surreal hue of electric blue, which Tony was certain he had seen before, that shone with a brightness that was not present in the man's. Both shared the same gaunt look as if their skin had been wrapped taut around their bodies. The appearance would have left any other creature looking emaciated, and yet the two looked more regal and enchanting because of it. When the one standing spoke, it was Freyja's voice that left its lips.

“You wished to see me, Father?”

“It is time you receive your birthright.”

Surprise painted her face, “Birthright? I don't understand what you are speaking of.”

“It was decided at the end of the Æsir-Vanir war that a certain object would be held and guarded by the more suitable of my children. Until the Council decided which of my children was the correct choice, it was Odin who was to guard it.”

“What object do you mean?”

He waved his hand towards the table, motioning for her to look. She walked quickly towards the table and pulled off the velvet cover to reveal the Tesseract. Her eyes widened.

“Is this-?”

“Yes. The Council has decided you are the more suitable to protect it. Be warned, if this falls into the wrong hands, it will mean the destruction of the Nine Realms.”

“Ragnarök,” she whispered.

“You must never let that happen, do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Then you must take the sacred oaths, as the Protectors before you have.”

She nodded, walking back to the center of the room and kneeling before the man. When she bowed her head, he began to speak once more, his voice echoing through the room.

“Do you, Freyja Njorddottir, swear upon your life and soul to protect your charge with every fiber of your body and mind?”

“I swear,” she said, not even looking up as coils of grey smoke trailed down from his palms and curled around her to weave what looked like ropes restraining her.

“Do you swear to uphold these expectations, no matter the consequence or situation?”

“I swear,” the coils tightened, her eyes shining silver now.

“Do you swear to give your life to protect what must never fall into the hands of those who wish would abuse its power?”

“I swear,” the coils looked more like chains now, tightening around her like snakes, and Tony wondered if they hurt.

“Do you swear to sacrifice everything, no matter what the cost?”

“I swear, on my life, my soul, my mind, and my world. I will not fail.”

Swirls of color, shadows of shapes, waves of garbled sound all destroyed the scene, and barely any of it seemed to bother him. Tony watched almost apathetically as he fell through all of it and into something new. He was in a large bedroom that seemed to be made of titanium. Powder blue curtains hung over the windows, though they were opened just enough for a streak of light to come in.

Freyja sat on the edge of the bed in a white chemise, someone tangled in the sheets behind her, as she stretched. She ran her fingers through her hair to push back the errant red curls and smiled. Turning to glance over her shoulder, she gave a soft laugh at the sight of the person on the bed. Tony walked around to see who it was, curious to see who her lover was at last, only to stop in shock.

She ran her fingers up the pale skin of his arm, smiling as if she couldn't believe he was there. Her hand reached his face where his ebony hair was messily splayed out across the pillow. She brushed a few strands out of his face, a gesture that seemed too intimate as Tony watched, and stood up. She walked over to the vanity and dug through the drawers until she found a silk drawstring bag.

Carefully picking out a few objects that looked like crushed seeds, she moved towards the window and opened the curtains just an inch more to reveal a balcony. She stood in silence, slowly chewing the seeds, and gazed out into the myriad of gold and silver towers beyond the crystal window.

Loki sat up where he lay in bed, looking around until he spotted her, and got up slowly. Tony was forced to avert his eyes until the prince tied the sheets around his waist. He only looked back when the rustled was replaced by soft footsteps walking past him. Loki wrapped his arms around her shoulders, kissing the curve of her neck.

“Good morning, love,” he whispered. “How was your night?”

She smiled, glancing at him, “Unexpected.”

“In a good way?”

“Perhaps,” she gave him a sly look, prompting him to grin in return.

“What is that you're eating?” he asked, his expression turning serious once more.

“Bird's Nest.”

He closed his eyes, “I am an extraordinary fool. The idea did not occur to me that-”

“It doesn't matter,” she said. “It occurred to me. Besides, I would not take back my actions.”

He smiled again, “I would not, either. In fact, I just might-”

Something went wrong then. The memory ripped apart violently as if someone was tearing it at the seams. Tony gripped his head as pain lanced across his skull, the feeling similar to if his head was splitting in two. When he opened his eyes, he was back in Freyja's room. Unfortunately for him, so was Freyja. Her eyes blazed in anger as she grasped his shoulder too tightly. Something about the woman was frightening in a way Tony had yet to register.

“What in the name of Norns are you doing with this?” she yelled, tossing the cloak onto the bed.

“Uh…Well, I-”

It wasn’t often that Tony was rendered speechless. But his head still ached from being ripped out of the memories, and Freyja was genuinely frightening him, which was not conducive to thinking of glib remarks.

“What did you see?”

He stuttered incoherently, trying to back away, “Nothing, I didn't-”

“Do not lie to me,” she snarled. “This cloak is imbued with my most personal memories, ones which are only shone when a question is asked. What question did you hold?”

She was furious beyond reason, coils of her silver aura snaking around him. As he scrambled for words, something he hadn't needed to do in a long time, he wondered if this time he had gone too far. She had told Bruce that the Vanir were not as physically strong as their Asgardian cousins. But she had also said that what they lacked in strength, they made up for in magic.

“What did you see?” she demanded.

He pulled away from her grasp, stepping back to keep away, “If you didn't want me to know something, you shouldn't have hidden it. Guests should be upfront about things.”

“What is wrong with you?” she yelled. “Is it customary for a host to search through his guest's belongings? Do you not respect one's privacy here? Is it too much to ask for you to stay out of my private life?”

“It is when you've slept with the enemy!”

He regretted it the second it was out of his mouth. _Idiot_ , he thought to himself, _what has Pepper always told you about speaking without thinking?_ Freyja turned red in the face, though Tony was ninety-three percent sure it wasn't because she was embarrassed.

“Get out,” she hissed through her teeth, letting go of his shirt.

“But-”

“GET OUT!”

He was thrown backwards, along with several other objects in the room, as a wave of silver energy blew up around her. Looking up at her, he realized that it would be in his best interest to do as she said. Despite his careless attitude, he knew it would be beyond stupid to stay in the same room with an angry woman who could tear his mind in two. He wasn't suicidal.

He walked out as quickly as possible without running, a voice in the back of his head wondering what Freyja would do now that her hour of meditation had gone to waste.


	11. Chapter 10: Charlatan's Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor finds things have not gone exactly to plan while he was away, Freyja decides to share a part of her burden for once in her life, and Tony finds insurance in the strangest of places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is late, guys. I was out of state for the last week and a half, with terrible wifi, so I wasn't able to post the new chapter. Sorry, again. I hope you all enjoy.

_“Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.”_

–Oscar Wilde

* * *

 

Thor was surprised when the elevator doors opened up to Bruce Banner rather than Tony Stark. He had spent most of the past few days outside the Tower, catching up with Jane, and had decided it was probably time he tried again to reach out to Freyja. Though he knew she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, he was afraid she might disappear to another Realm while he was away. She seemed to have this strange notion that she needed to save every being in the Nine.

“Where is Stark?” he asked. “I thought he was to keep an eye on Freyja?”

Bruce smiled apologetically, “Well…there was a bit of a mishap a couple days ago.”

“What happened?”

“I'm not sure on the details since Freyja won’t give me all the details and Tony has refused to tell me anything at all aside from that he’s genuinely afraid of her, but it sounds like Freyja found him snooping around in her room and nearly blew up her room in rage.”

Thor frowned, “That is unlike her. She has always been level-headed.”

“Not from what Jarvis said. Tony's been away since it happened. When he left, he said something about a cloak…”

“Not Freyja's cloak?”

Bruce nodded, “I think that's what he said.”

“He was wise to stay away after. Freyja’s cloak is enchanted to hold a few of her memories, as the Vanir remember much more of their lives than most, and only a fool would delve into her past without her permission.”

He glanced outside at Freyja, who sat, as per usual, on the overhang. She looked relatively peaceful, but he had never seen her any other way until recently. He had grown up with stories of the mighty Vanir who had the power to kill without weapons and the strength to hold back. Quite frankly, her recent temper frightened him and, yet, he knew she would never do anything to hurt someone intentionally. She loved all forms of life too much to do so.

“How long has she been meditating?”

“Two hours, but there is something…strange that you might want to know about.”

“What is it, Banner?”

“Thirty minutes ago, I went to check on her and she wasn't breathing.”

Recognition flared in his blue eyes, “Are you certain?”

“Completely,” Bruce said. “And her pulse has slowed down exponentially. But her pupils are responding to light, so I’m not sure if it’s just a defense mechanism and it’s perfectly normal for her or…”

“It is nothing to be concerned over,” Thor assured him.

He stared out the window at her figure once more, knowing that her mind was not there. Back in Asgard, he had made the mistake of thinking her dead, and had nearly thrown the entire palace into a fright. It had taken his mother’s detailed explanation on mental projection to calm everyone down.

And he was right, for Freyja was not on Earth in spirit or mind. She was with Loki.

She was glad to see that he was no longer being gagged or bound, but he had yet to earn the privilege of a proper bath – something she knew was grated on his nerves. He had always been so neat and orderly when she had known him. Now he had a sickly pallor to his skin, his eyes were sunken in and ringed with dark circles, he was thinner than usual as well, all of it making him look slightly wild. It didn’t stop him from assuring her that he looked better than he had when he attacked Midgard.

But it was his eyes that hurt her every time she looked into them. The emerald green eyes that had once been filled with so much humor, so much light, and often gave a silent warning when he was up to something were now dark and smoldering like the embers of a forgotten fire. They betrayed his sense of hopelessness, regardless of how he smiled at her. She missed the times they had gotten into trouble, always looking out for each other and sticking up for the other when one had gotten caught. Now, their time was weighted by the knowledge of the mistakes they’d made.

He wasn't pleading for her to return to Asgard at the moment, giving her a break from the indecision that pained her, which she was grateful for. Instead, he had listened intently as she recalled everything that had happened since she left Asgard. She had glossed over a few details that were too painful to recall, but he didn’t seem to mind. His silent intrigue calmed her, reminded her of better times, and allowed her to temporarily forget her anger towards Tony.

“What happened to you when I left?” she asked when she had finished.

He looked away, “Thor has told you. Why must you ask me, as well?”

“I want to hear it from you,” she answered. “Stories are never exactly the same from both views. I want to know what you say for yourself, not just what others say for you.”

A sigh was the only further protest he offered before saying, “I tried to go after you not long after you left. I rode back to Heimdall, armed with what I could carry, with every intention of demanding he open the Bifrost. I didn't care that I might die, as well. I didn’t want you to die alone. I was halfway across the bridge when the explosion occurred.

“The energy was so far-reaching, so powerful, that I was knocked off my horse. Word had it that the blast could be felt in Nidavellir. I felt as if a part of myself had died that day, as I couldn’t fathom what I would tell my children nor how I would go on without my closest friend. Thor brought me back to the palace, but it did no good.

“I could not make myself eat, I could not sleep, only my children kept me from completely blocking out the world. I sat on my balcony for weeks on end, doing nothing but looking out on the city that continued mercilessly. The only others who seemed to be affected were the few Vanir who stayed and my family. Even Mother grieved.

“It was only when I heard a disturbance in your chambers that reality seemed to drag me back to the present. Some of the servants were emptying it of your belongings. I lost my temper, yelling at them to leave your chambers in peace, nearly caught a few objects alight. I realized then that no matter what happened, life would go on, and you would have wanted me to continue as well.”

He fell silent suddenly, eyes a million miles away. She wondered what she would feel if she ever lost him in such a way. For all of his rage, and her pacifism, she couldn’t honestly say that she wouldn’t have done something similar. Her thoughts were shattered as he began to speak again.

“I tried to return to my daily routine, but it wasn't the same. Nevertheless, I took your last advice and took care of all my family, watched out for Thor. You wouldn't believe the mishaps he would get us into, always leaving me to come up with a solution. Sometimes I believe he did so intentionally.

“I trained a little more in Asgardian battle techniques, perfected my accuracy with bows and knives, and worked to create new spells. Your students attempted to remain under my instruction but, with the death of your kin, came the death of interest in your practices. Time flew quickly and I found it wasn't long before Thor's coronation was upon us.

“But Thor was arrogant and reckless at the time, the epitome of the faults you had seen in the Æsir, and Asgard needed a king with more wisdom and serenity. So I created an opportunity for a few Jötunns to enter the Vault. They nearly reached the Casket of Ancient Winters, but the Destroyer took care of them, as expected.”

She shuddered at the thought of the Destroyer, another creation of the Vanir that had been abused at the hands of others. For longer than her people cared to remember, Asgard had used the Destroyer, once called ‘the Guardian’ by her own kind, to strong-arm other Realms into compliance. It had taken decades for Odin and her father to come to an agreement regarding its usage.

“Thor did not take the disruption well,” Loki continued. “And he soon persuaded us into going to Jotunheim to confront Laufey. It was not part of my plan, as I only wished to postpone the coronation, but I could not allow him to go with only Sif and the Warriors Three. They were bound to start another war.”

“Fools, all of you, for doing such,” she said, shaking her head. “I would have never let you undergo such madness.”

“Perhaps, but Thor was Niflheim-bent on the idea. He angered Laufey, but I managed to convince him into allowing us to leave. We would have left peacefully, had one of his guards not insulted Thor, and you know as well as I how receptive Thor is to slights.”

“What did the guard say?” she sighed.

“I believe his exact words were 'run home, little princess',” Loki laughed. “It was enough to ruin all I had attempted to construct. A small battle ensued, and both Fandral and Volstagg were wounded. It was also then that I began to doubt my ancestry.”

“What conceived the idea?”

“When I was slaying one of the Giants, he gripped my arm. His touch broke through my armor, as their frostbite does, but turned my skin the same blue as Jötunns.

“Odin saved us from death, but war was inevitable, and Thor was banished to Midgard for his actions. You know what happened in the Vault. He fell into the Odinsleep from the stress and Mother offered me the crown in his absence. I never wanted such a burden, but how could I refuse her in such times?

“Besides, her offer…it appealed to me in some way. I had always felt the need to prove myself, and the throne offered me the perfect means to do so. That need plagued me then more than ever – and I’m certain you know why. You know what it is to be abandoned by your father. Laufey had left me to die in his temple and Odin lied to me all my life, cast me aside for Thor and Baldur. I had finally realized why.”

“Odin’s unfounded prejudice against the Jötunns,” she sighed.

He nodded, “I suddenly knew why I never belonged among the warriors of Asgard, as well. I knew why I was not Thor's equal, why I would never be worthy in Njord's or Odin's eyes, and why I seemed to share more aspects of the Vanir than the Æsir. I wanted to repay Laufey for the ruin he created in my life as well as show Odin that I was not what he believed me to be, and what better way to prove my worth than to kill Odin's enemy?

“Of course, I was met with enmity. I found that Sif and the Warriors Three had gone to Earth to bring Thor back and I knew he would stop what I had set in motion. I allowed Laufey the opportunity to enter Asgard once more and attempt to slay Odin, but killed him before he could. However, my victory was short-lived, as Thor had returned, despite my sending the Destroyer after him. I never wanted to kill him, of course. But I was desperate.

“I attempted to destroy Jotunheim, to destroy the reason I could never have what I wanted. It was Jotunheim that kept me from being a true Asgardian, kept me from having a true birthright, kept me from having you. I would have annihilated everything that kept happiness at bay. But Thor would not allow me.

“I fought him on the Bifrost, keeping him from stopping the obliteration of those monsters, but it was not enough. He broke the Bifrost itself, creating an explosion that demolished the Observatory and more than half of the bridge.

“We nearly fell into the passage to the Void that was created, but Odin caught Thor before we could. I was holding on only by Gungnir, held up by Thor, and gazing up at them. I tried to explain to them, tried to justify my actions, but Odin spurned my attempts. I allowed myself to fall as I knew there was no future for me in Asgard. At least, I thought, I had you to greet me in death.”

She shook her head, “Thank _Sophossentia_ that you did not die that day. Your death would have brought nothing but more sorrow upon your family.”

“And what of you?”

“I would have never known, most likely,” she told him. “What happened after?”

“I cannot say when I lost consciousness, but I awoke to The Other. He took me to Thanos and offered me a kingdom of my own, my own redemption, in exchange for the Tesseract. For weeks, I did not comply. In the end, it was not enough, and I broke. You must believe me when I say that I knew not that it was the object that you had guarded for so long until it was far too late. But he held something of great power – I do not know what it was, Freyja, but I never felt anything like it. But, when I realized this, it had already consumed me.

“Influenced by Thanos’s power, I relished the idea of molding a world to my own whims. I would have created a perfect world, one where none would have to fear being torn away from what made them happy. I once said that it is the truth that all beings crave subjugation. It was not a lie.”

“You crave subjugation?” she challenged, trying not to sound so condemning of the idea.

He met her eyes without so much as a wince, “Yes. Subjugation comes in many forms, and I fell prey to a particular type long ago.”

His whispers lingered in the relative silence and she knew, deep down, it was at least partially true. The fact was that the form of 'subjugation' he craved, that they both were ensnared by, was subject to interpretation. Love was such a tricky subject to explain. She found it both liberating and constraining at times.

“My army was quickly overpowered,” he continued. “Part of me was still fighting Thanos’s control and, though it made little difference, I was able to hold back on a few occasions. The rest of the Mind Stone’s power was eradicated with…intense cognitive recalibration.”

“Thor?”

“If only,” he muttered, obviously trying to keep her from hearing.

She looked surprised, “You can tell me, Loki. I will not hold anything against you.”

“I do not wish to talk about it.”

A small grin crept across her lips, “Wounded pride is no reason to hide something.”

“It has nothing to do with my pride,” he mumbled.

“Loki Odinson, you and I both know you are lying.”

“Do _not_ call me that.”

“Why not? It is your name.”

Bitterness tainted his words suddenly, “I am not Odin's son.”

“You are not Laufey’s son, either,” she pointed out. “What name pleases you? Son-of-none? Lie-smith?”

He refused to look at her, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Loki Lie-smith…” she mused. “That sounds utterly ridiculous and is hardly accurate.”

He smiled, “Perhaps I should simply be Loki Silver-tongue.”

“It suits you, I suppose. Although I am not particularly fond of it.”

“What would you have me called, then?”

“Hmm…I see no reason why you cannot simply be Loki of Asgard, first sorcerer of Asgard. Neither of us seems to have a suitable name, so let us merely be ourselves.”

“And it does not bother you that I am of Jötunn blood?”

“Why should it? I am not of Asgardian blood – this is not what I truly look like. I am not fully a Vanir, either. You’ve seen how I truly look. Would you scorn me for it?”

“Of course not,” he answered, his jaw set stubbornly.

“Does it matter that your skin is truly blue when mine is, in reality, just a shade darker? You have spent these last years thinking in the ridiculous fashion that Asgardians do. Differences are illusions of the mind, made to set absurd standards on what is believed to be suitable in specific societies. Dispel such nonsensical thoughts from your mind. What would you think of me if I refused to acknowledge you simply because of your blood?”

“I would think you a royal hypocrite.”

She laughed, “And I would rightly deserve it. So do not ask me again whether or not your blood makes a difference to me, for you already know my answer.”

He took her hand, his cool fingers wrapping comfortably around her own, “Will you not return to Asgard?”

Freyja’s smile fell, a sigh escaping her, “Why do you plead with me so?”

“Because, when all is said and done, you are the only one to understand and accept all that I do, wicked or virtuous. You do not dwell on the past and only ask that I learn from my mistakes in future. I want nothing more than to have my oldest companion back.”

She closed her eyes to escape the imploring look in his eyes. He was the only one, in all her life, who could break her heart and put it back together at the same time. But she knew what she must do, regardless of what she wanted.

“And if I chose to return, what am I to do? Court you through energy shields and armed Einherjar?”

“I admit, it is not an agreeable situation.”

“It is not a  _feasible_  situation,” she corrected.

“Please,” he whispered.

She groaned, “Do you realize how difficult it is to say no when you beseech me in such manner?”

“Do  _you_  realize that there is no difficulty in saying yes?”

She lost her patience then, letting the images of the futures that could come true if she returned flood into his mind. There were no words she could offer him, only emotions and visions through their open connection, that could fully explain her reasons for staying away. He froze, a look of mortification on his face as he saw the possibilities.

“If I return to Asgard, I will bring only ruin and death with me.”

“I understand,” he said, closing his eyes. “So long as I can at least speak with you, I will not go mad in this cell.”

She placed a hand against the side of his face, “I will visit you again. I must, however, leave for now. They will grow worried if I am gone too long.”

“Return soon,” he said.

He pressed further into her touch, turning his face so that he could kiss her palm. The second he did so, her rings brushed against his skin, and he opened his eyes. He pulled her hand gently away as his eyes narrowed on his emerald ring on her finger.

A smile crossed his face, “You kept it.”

“I could not part with it. It has, indeed, brought me good fortune.”

“And may it always,” he whispered. “Farewell, love.”

“Take care, Loki.”

And, with that said, she faded from his perception and was back on the overhang of the Avengers Tower within seconds. She stood up easily and walked inside. Thor sat on the couch, much to her surprise, waiting for her to come in.

“Visiting someone, were you?”

Surprised by the query, she raised her eyebrows at him, “What is your reason for saying such?”

“Banner says you were not breathing.”

She arched an eyebrow, “I was not aware you knew the signs of mental projection.”

“Is it not astral projection?”

“Astral projection is when one projects an unmoving or completely mirrored image of themselves while very aware of their surroundings; mental projection is the separation of one's mind from the body to create a corporeal projection elsewhere.”

He nodded in understanding, a flicker of an unnamable emotion in his eyes, “What happened between you and Stark?”

“I-”

Before she could finish, a soft _ding_ echoed through the room. Both gods turned to see who had arrived. The door to the elevator opened and out walked Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Clint. Tony raised an eyebrow at the sight of Thor.

“Who invited He-Man?”

Thor, Freyja, and Steve looked confused while Natasha and Clint rolled their eyes. Bruce, who walked in from down the hall, was the only one to speak up.

“No one invited him, Tony. He just dropped in to check on Freyja.”

“I thought Freyja wasn’t in the mood for visitors,” Tony said, sparing a glance towards Freyja.

“He has done nothing to antagonize me, therefore I have no quarrel with him,” she pointed out.

“I thought I'd do something to make up for that,” he said roguishly, holding up a few bottles of liquor.

“I'm not drinking that again,” she said sharply.

“Again?” Thor demanded. “You were drinking with Stark?”

She sat down on the couch, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes, “Thor, I swear on my life, if you reprimand me about the subject, you will do nothing but sour the pleasant mood I have finally found myself to be in.”

He grit his teeth, not saying anything in reply. It was very well known to him that Vanir were highly susceptible to alcohol. Though he didn’t believe Tony would do anything inappropriate, for Freyja would have done something noticeable otherwise, he knew Tony’s proclivity for snooping. Oblivious to the Thor’s mood, Steve sat down next to Freyja while Clint and Natasha sat on the bar.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“I've been in higher spirits,” she answered, offering a weary smile.

“What-”

“I've been meaning to ask,” Tony interrupted, “what do your people do at parties? You can't drink without getting absolutely wasted, you don't have much of a sense of humor, so what could possibly entertain you?”

“The Vanir are not-”

“Parties are very seldom among my people,” she said as she cut Thor off. “But, when we did hold a festival of sorts, we had music, dancing, games, and drinks of our own that are not as strong as yours. And, I can assure you, we did have a sense of humor.”

“Games?” the billionaire continued. “What kind of games?”

“We excel in wordplay, thus our amusements are composed of riddles and conundrums. Although a variety of card games were popular, as well – though our cards were very different from yours.”

“Very different from Asgardian parties,” Natasha noted.

“They are, though Vanir were often asked to join our feasts if only for their conversation and abilities,” Thor said. “There was one game that was popular among all at our banquets: Seer of Pasts. Freyja was exceptionally proficient at playing and charmed most of our ambassadors by doing so.”

“What are the rules?” Steve asked.

“I attempt to unravel your past by reading through your aura,” Freyja said dismissively. “It is not particularly interesting.”

“You can guess a person's past by their aura?” Bruce asked.

“You can tell many things from a person's aura, be it their past, personality or mood. It is believed that the High Priestess of my people could read a being’s future from their aura.”

“Sure,” Natasha said softly.

“You're authoritative, intuitive, and confident with a stunning disregard for danger towards your own life and a penchant for manipulation” Freyja said, looking at her through the corner of her eyes. “You also have quite a bloody past. Shall I continue?”

Natasha hissed something incoherent while Clint laughed, “Keep going. I want to hear this.”

“You have a difficult past that you grapple with even now, a dark shadow that influences your every choice. You were no more than a pawn since you were young, a gun which your superiors pointed in whichever direction they wished, but that changed when Clint Barton came into your life. Your savior has been tied closely with your life ever since.”

Everyone within the room went silent as they looked between Freyja and Natasha. However, instead of getting angry, Natasha looked impressed.

“That is a loose interpretation,” Freya said dismissively. “I could dwell deeper, but I see you would prefer the world not to see you as you were, but as you are.”

“What do you see about me?” Clint asked, turning around in his chair.

She looked him up and down for a second, avoiding his eyes as best she could, “Navy blue is your dominant shade, making you thoughtful, organized, and precise, but you tend to dwell on the loss of innocents even when the blame is not yours to take. Your past was not enjoyable, either. You lost your parents early in your life, and ran away from false homes with someone dear to you – a sibling, perhaps. You were recruited into S.H.I.E.L.D. soon after finding your gifts.”

“Not bad,” he said, taking a long draw from his beer.

“It seems we all have had difficult pasts,” she noted. “With the exception of Thor, of course.”

“I have not had an easy childhood,” the thunder god protested.

“You were the spoiled crowned prince of Asgard,” she laughed. “Do tell me how your life was not one of luxury.”

“I put up with many of your and Loki's practical jokes while growing up.”

“You say this as if we strung you up by your ankles and hung you from the North Tower.”

“You did,” he pointed out.

A frown crossed her face as she thought of the instance, “That was Loki.”

“You gave him the idea.”

“As a joke!” she said, trying not to laugh. “How was I to know he would take my words as serious?”

“How did that happen,” Bruce asked, barely hiding a smile.

“Thor sleeps as soundly as the dead,” she told him. “Loki simply had to use a spell I taught him.”

“You and Loki were friends?” Clint asked.

“He was different then, much easier to get along with. He and I had much in common at the time,” she said with a shrug, trying to change the subject. “Who is next?”

“What about me?” Bruce asked. “What do you see in my past?”

“Your aura is an interesting one, as it lacks a dominant color, a very rare anomaly which was believed to mean complete balance in the soul. But, from what I can discern, you are diligent, practical, grounded, and a little self-deprecating. You have dedicated your life to science, as well as self-control. Despite your modesty, you are much more important than you believe.”

“You're wrong.”

She looked at Tony, “Would you care to elaborate on that?”

“You’re wrong about all of us having difficult pasts. I had a very pleasant past,” he said, taking a swig of the dark amber liquid in his glass.

She scrutinized him with a frown, “Why are you lying? You must be the easiest person to read. You may not be so simple in personality, but your aura is an open book. You are analytical, intelligent, and creative, but you pretend to lack self-discipline and immaturity as a way to hide something you wish not to speak of. There is a shadow in your past which looms over your mind at all times and so you hide your fear and uncertainty behind a candid opinion and winning smile. Do not presume you can lie to me, Tony Stark, for the truth is plain as day to me.”

There was a moment of silence before he smiled, “Not bad, but I would like to guess  _your_ past.”

“Stark-”

She held up her hand to silence Thor, “Be wary of where you stick your nose, lest someone shut the door on it.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” he said, looking straight at her before starting. “As princess of Vanaheim, you lived a life of luxury. But, you weren’t happy, so you left for Asgard.”

“I was to visit Asgard despite the fact that I chose to reside there. At twelve, it is customary for my people to be sent on a pilgrimage to Alfheim, Nidavellir, Jotunheim, and Asgard for a year and a half as part of our coming-of-age ritual. After my journey, I became the Vanaheim ambassador to Asgard,” she corrected.

“So you were unhappy with your life, anyway,” he continued. “You became ambassador to Asgard where you were forced to look into marrying various men that didn't suit you. You quickly became friends with a man there, sneaking out at night to meet with him. The friendship grew into something stronger, but your father didn't approve, and you were forced to continue your romance in secret.”

“I was friends with him before I was the ambassador.”

Everyone was listening silently now as the two went back and forth in their story. There was a tension in the air, though no one dared to interrupt them.

“Right. Your father didn't approve because of a law regarding marriage between different species. This is where it gets fuzzy, as he's Asgardian but you said your people were close to the Asgardians, but you also said that your father didn't approve because of what he was.”

“Pay no mind to this part,” she said sharply. “It does naught but confuse the spectator.”

Tony nodded with a smirk, “You were completely taken by this man. But he has changed now, and not in the good way. You are afraid of what others would think if they knew who you love. His connection with you would make us doubt your loyalties. I don't think even you know how far you'd go for him.”

“There is a line that should not be crossed,” she warned.

Ignoring her, Tony pressed onward, “We all know this man, we've seen his actions. He is malicious and all-around crazy. None of us can stand the sight of the man and all of us have a bone to pick except Thor, here, for personal reasons. The only question is what exactly it is that you see in him. What quality could Loki possibly have that could win you over so much that you'd sleep with him?”

The air was heavy with the silence that followed Tony's query. Freyja stood up, face red in anger, as she felt the hostility and disgust in the room. Tony stood his ground as she glared at him, silently daring her to do something. She bit her lip to keep from moving while everyone's eyes were on her. She met the stares evenly, acknowledging each one. Condemnations from Natasha, disgust from Clint, regret from Thor, accusation from Tony, disbelief from Bruce, and surprise from Steve. She could feel the suspicion from all sides, and the loathing even more. She was revolted at the idea that they reviled her for something so simple as whom she had fallen in love with.

“What can I say, Mr. Stark?” she snapped at him. “He and I had much in common, including a sense of personal privacy.”

With that, she turned and walked stiffly to her room and slammed the door shut behind her. Thor walked after her, causing Tony to tense as he walked by, and banged on the door.

Steve watched as Natasha, Clint, and Bruce questioned Tony about how he found out. They seemed disgusted at her feelings, but he couldn't seem to muster anything negative about Freyja. He had heard both her and Thor describe how Loki was before, and he could somewhat relate to what they had told him. On top of that, everything she had told him when they had walked through the streets made Loki seem almost understandable.

It seemed unfair to despise her simply because she fell in love with a man who had made her happy. She had never shown any reason for them to mistrust her, besides hiding her attraction to Loki, but even that was understandable. If anything, he thought that maybe Freyja could help Loki redeem himself. What did disgust him, however, was the way Tony had told everyone.

Tony had known that she was uncomfortable with sharing her more intimate relationships with everyone, and Steve could see why. He had known that it wasn't something she had wanted to share, and yet the self-claimed genius had given it to everyone as though it was his choice. Who did he think he was to tell everyone about her love life? Then again, Steve knew the answer to that question. Tony was Tony, he would do whatever he wanted because of his adamant belief in letting the truth be known.

Thor walked back into the main room angrily, pointing an accusing finger at Stark, “Why must you incriminate her in such a foul way? Is it not enough to antagonize her by searching through her memories?”

“Why did she hide it?”

“She was afraid of the distrust she would face.”

“Don't we have a reason to? How closely is she tied to the fruit loop?”

“Do not speak of my brother in such a manner!”

Steve stood up, not wanting to get into the argument that was breaking out, and walked down the hall towards Freyja's door as Clint said something about Loki being a murderer. What had been said was between Thor, Freyja, and Tony. It was better if someone checked on Freyja, anyway. He gathered up his courage and knocked lightly on the door.

“I do not wish to speak, Thor! Leave me be!”

“It's not Thor, it's Steve.”

“Here to patronize me for my choice, are you? I can tell you, I am not in the mood to silently accept your criticism.”

“Actually, I just want to see if you're okay,” he admitted. “Can I come in?”

He waited in silence, listening for some sign of an answer. Then, he heard the sound he never expected to hear. The door clicked open.


	12. Chapter 11: Straight Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finds that Freyja's more forthcoming when asked politely.

_If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.”_

–Michel de Montaigne

* * *

 

“I am in no mood to speak, Thor. Leave me be!” Freyja called through the door in reply to the knocking.

She was not in the best state of mind at the moment. Her anger was skyrocketing at Tony's actions. She had finally managed to calm herself after she found him searching through her memories, and now he had thrown one of her secrets out for everyone to see. As it was, her aura was manifesting around her in response to her anger, the smoke-like energy filling the room with lazy coils. She was going to blow something up if she wasn’t careful. And the last thing she needed was Thor fanning the flames by accident, as was his specialty.

“It's not Thor,” a voice behind the door said. “It's Steve.”

“Here to patronize me for my choice, are you?” she snapped irritably. “I can tell you, I am not in the mood to silently accept your criticism.”

“Actually, I just want to see if you're okay,” he replied quietly. “Can I come in?”

It was surprising. She had expected all of the Avengers to chastise her on her relationship with Loki, as Tony had. But, then again, Steve had been the one who easily accepted that she was friends with Loki and even understood her reasoning. If anyone she had met on Earth was easy to talk to, it was Steve.

She unlocked the door, peering at him cautiously, “I warn you now, I’m not in the best of moods.”

“I don't blame you,” he said, walking in and standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“You may sit down if you wish,” she said, gesturing to the bed.

He nodded in thanks as he stepped towards the bed and sat down. There was a silence that hung between them, not one of discomfort, but of an uncertainty as to what each of them should say to the other. She leaned against the wall, waiting for what he had to say.

“Are you alright?” he managed at last.

“Why would I not be?”

He looked at her squarely, his pale blue eyes meeting hers, “You’re kind of…smoking.”

“It’s not smoke,” she said, making her aura dissipate with a quick incantation.

He blinked in confusion as he watched it disappear, “What is it?”

“It’s the physical manifestation of my aura,” she clarified. “The field of energy that surrounds each being.”

Another silence stretched between them as neither knew what to say next. After what seemed like an eternity, Steve spoke up once more.

“Why'd you do it?”

“Why did I do what?”

“Hide your relationship from everyone.”

She crossed her arms, “You saw how everyone reacted. Loki is no more than a monster in their eyes, and I no more than a traitor for loving him. Besides, my private affairs are mine alone and, should I have no inclination to speak of them, it should be my right to do so.”

“Wouldn't it have been easier to tell everyone?”

Her eyes flashed angrily, “And lose the small amount of trust I had here? After what Loki did to everyone here, anyone who feels anything towards him besides anger and disgust is an enemy.”

“Nobody thinks that about Thor,” Steve pointed out.

“Thor is different. Loki was his brother, they were family. What Loki did here was wrong, that I will not deny, but I cannot find it in myself to scorn him for his decisions.”

“Why is that?”

“Loki is somewhat impulsive – it’s a fairly common trait in Asgard. On top of that he is, to put it bluntly, not the most emotionally stable. His childhood was spent in the shadow of Odin’s preference for Thor. Aside from his family, I was the only one to see him as equal to the majority of Asgard. Even Odin did not treat him as though he was the same. In consequence, he has the unappeasable need to prove himself.

“He does not like to show it, but it eats him alive that he will never meet his father's standards, nor anyone else's. His drive to prove himself to the world only clouds his judgment further. He has changed so much, grief and anger twisting his every thought and motive to the point that it dictates his life. All of these combined, and he is a chemical mixture that can explode at any moment.

“I know what drives him to such madness, I know what keeps him on the fault line between redemption and demise. There is a mental bond between us, allowing us to know each other better than we know ourselves, and it is why I cannot hate him for his actions. Put yourself in his standing and tell me, without bringing yourself to lie, that you would not have lost a part of yourself and your sanity.”

He shook his head, “I can't do that.”

“And why not?”

He smiled, seeing her point, “Because it wouldn't be the truth.”

“At least you understand this. The rest refuse to look at all of the facts, only looking at what they have experienced firsthand, and so they judge me for my association with him. They do not do so with Thor because they know him. I do not have that luxury.”

She came to lay down across the bed, looking up at the ceiling while her fingers played restlessly with her emerald ring. Steve watched her and marveled at how human her gestures and sentiments were. He had always expected her ideals to be entirely foreign to him and work as a constant reminder that she was not from Earth, and they did in some cases, but there was also something so familiar about her troubles and doubts that seemed so close to home.

“Why did you fall for him?”

“Why did I fall for Loki?”

He nodded, “What do you see in him?”

She gave an almost long-suffering laugh, “It is impossible to pinpoint specific traits one loves about another. Loki and I were good friends to begin with, simply because we each had what the other wanted. I had never been allowed to freely experience emotion and I felt as though I was missing something I could not name. Loki had always felt himself to be an outsider due to his differences from Asgard’s traditional view of men. We both felt distinctly different from our people and, together, we felt as though we made up for each other’s flaws.

“Before Loki, my life was a dark room that could only be opened through a locked door, lit only by the dim glow of a candle. He was the one who unlocked the door so I may see sunlight for the first time. Sometimes, I feel as if I have been blinded by that light ever since.

“I suppose, if I had to say what I saw in him, I would say that he was everything I was not. He was sensitive, passionate, vivacious, comical, rebellious, and unrestrained. I was subjugated, detached, obedient, monotonous, lackluster – I was a prisoner of my father. What Loki saw in me is the true question.”

“So you still love him?” he said, unable to help himself. “Even after all he's done?”

“Of course,” Freyja answered without hesitation. “There is a bond between Loki and I which cannot be entirely defined by the words of your language. To hate him would be tantamount to hating myself. And, no, I do not condone what he did to your people. I was raised to believe that all life was sacred, and the idea that Loki would cause such destruction sickens me. But I was also raised to believe that people have the ability to constantly be in a state of change. Though we inherently remain the same person, we are always shifting our beliefs, needs, and wants.”

“Like fire.”

A small smile played across her lips as she looked at him, “Not a bad analogy.”

“So you think Loki can change? That he hasn’t reached a point of no return?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Where that point lies is a mystery to me because, in some ways, I have crossed that line myself, if indirectly. I have never felt so conflicted in my life. My love for Loki even after all he has done compels me to ignominy, and yet that makes me feel worse.

“On top of this, I have Thanos to worry about. No matter what path I take, the results are always the same: either the worlds are lost or I spend the rest of eternity on the run to keep the Nine Realms safe. I don't know what to do anymore and I find myself second-guessing all of my decisions –”

And then she broke off into another language that Steve couldn't understand. It had been hard enough to keep up with what she was saying in English since she had been speaking faster by the minute, but this was impossible. The language she now spoke was lilting and rhythmic, as if it was more along the lines of music than speech, and something about it seemed innately powerful. The air around them seemed to crackle as if the words held a certain power within them. He almost didn't want to stop her, if only out of curiosity as to what might happen if he let her keep going.

“Freyja,” he said slowly. “I can’t understand what you’re saying now.”

She stopped short, looking embarrassed, “I apologize. The all-tongue spell ceases to work if I speak too quickly.”

“Don't worry about it. What were you saying?”

“I was simply wondering out loud if my father was right…”

“Your father?”

She nodded, “We...I disowned him a few months before Vanaheim was destroyed.”

“You disowned your own father?”

She shrugged unhappily, “After what he did…I would rather not speak of it, Steve, and I would appreciate it if we could leave it at that.”

He raised his eyebrows, wondering what her father might have done that was so terrible, “He must have been horrible.”

She smiled, “You would not have liked him, no. He was the type of person you respected, but did not enjoy spending time with. He likely wouldn’t have approved of my stay here or my conversations with you. Then again, he didn’t approve of much of anything in my life.”

“So, he didn't approve of Loki, either?”

A small laugh escaped her lips, “Not in the least. He claimed that Loki was a bad influence on me, that he would corrupt me. I think what led to that conclusion was that he never forgave Loki for stealing his scepter.”

“Scepter? What scepter?”

“It is not the scepter Loki wielded whilst here,” she said. “It was a scepter forged by the Dwarves of Nidavellir as a gift to my father. My necklace also came from the Dwarves, although it was originally intended to be a gift to my mother.

“The scepter was called _Ariolo,_ the staff of Kings, as it was forged with the very bones of the first Kings of the Realms. It was perhaps seven feet of the purest _graeslin_ , the strongest catalyst and conductor of auric energy available to us, and topped with a sapphire the size of your fist. It had the ability to maximize the wielder's strength tenfold and offer protection under the most dire of circumstances. I fear it was lost in the destruction of Vanaheim…”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” he said hesitantly, watching as her brilliant blue eyes focused on the ceiling high above them. “How was Vanaheim destroyed?”

“I wish I knew. If I had to wager, I would say that the amount of auric energy used during the battle encumbered our technologies and caused the systems to overload. Paired with the potentially dangerous nature of magic and the exponential increase in those moments, I suppose it was inevitable.”

He raised his eyebrows and was silent for a minute, thinking about all she had said. Her past was not so different from his. Losing her home, left feeling out of place, those sentiments he could empathize with. He wondered suddenly how different his life would be if he had been cognizant of the time passing beneath the ice the way Freyja was left to wander the Realms. But that was not something he wanted to linger on.

“What was it you think your father was right about?” he asked, trying to shake free from the thoughts of his past.

“He told me once that love is destructive and useless. That one does not need love to live, and those who live with it ruin their lives fretting over it.”

“Why would he think that?”

“He spoke from personal experience, but that story is far too complicated for now.”

He looked down at her, “Do you agree with him?”

She exhaled slowly, her strange electric blue eyes turning to look at him, “I'm not sure. I see his logic, I suppose, as my life has not exactly gone well thus far. But I would not blame my problems on love, my predicaments stem from the Tesseract.”

“I don’t understand why the Tesseract would be your responsibility alone,” he mused aloud, the words spoken low under his breath.

“The reason is this,” she said as she pulled a thick silver ring off her finger and offered it to him.

Steve picked up the ring, examining it as if it might give him a hint as to what she meant. It was strangely heavy, more along the lines of a ring one would believe to be a man’s, but was rather small in size. Spiraling glyphs of gold were inscribed into the otherwise smooth surface.

“What does it say?” he asked.

“It says, ‘ _Custodi vires et sapientiam abscondita volunt'_.”

“And that means?”

“It is difficult to translate my language to yours, hence why the all-tongue spell failed once again,” she explained. “But I suppose it would be 'May you have the strength and wisdom to guard our secrets'.”

“But it's just a ring…”

“No,” she told him, slipping it back on her right middle finger. “It is a vow I took when I reached my twelfth name-day.”

“Name-day?”

“The day I was born. Do you not celebrate those here?”

He nodded, “We call it a birthday. So what's so special about some vow?”

“Ours is the language of truth, making it impossible for a Vanir to lie, thus our vows cannot be broken. It was decided by the Council that I was the more suitable heir to learn our secrets. I was taught everything we keep hidden from the rest of the worlds, and made to swear that I would only share them when absolutely necessary.”

“And your father allowed this?”

“Of course,” she said simply. “His sister was the last secret-bearer before she disappeared. It was by luck alone that she kept records of them in her chambers…”

“What?”

“It's complicated,” she told him, shaking her head.

He turned to face her completely, but she was still staring off into space, “So, let me get this straight. Your father let you, a twelve-year-old at the time, take the responsibility of guarding all the secrets of the worlds? Even when he knew how much danger that would put you in?”

“I suppose the question you are trying to ask is why he did this. The answer you seek is simple: he did not care. He could not put my brother, crown prince and the only true heir to the throne in his eyes, in such danger. It was more convenient to leave such matters to his illegitimate daughter,” she said venomously, a mixture of sadness and anger in her eyes. “It is another thing I share with Loki, come to think of it. Both of our families are broken and dysfunctional.”

“What's wrong with Loki's family? Aside from what you said about Odin, Thor’s made his family out to be ideal.”

“You must remember that Thor was not always this way. In the days when Odin showed preference towards Thor, he did nothing to make Loki's life happier. He emphasized the difference. Thor was arrogant, stubborn, and vain once, and it was Loki who watched out for him. Only Frigga loved them both equally, often indulging in Loki's whims as much as Thor’s.”

Silence filled the room once again, as neither had anything left to say. Freyja had told him much more than he ever expected her to say. Whether she had done so because she trusted him for some unknown reason, or because she simply didn’t feel like hiding anything anymore, he would never know. Steve shifted awkwardly where he sat before she startled him.

“What would you do?”

“What?”

“What would you do,” she repeated, “if you were in my position?”

“I don’t have an answer to that…”

“Of course not. I apologize for asking,” she said immediately. “I will have to leave shortly.”

“What do you mean?”

“I will have to leave Midgard within the next few days, lest I bring destruction upon you. It’s why I am telling you so much. Do not look so surprised – your thoughts are clear in your aura.”

Steve’s jaw snapped audibly shut, a smile tugging at his lips at the kind tone in her words, “And you have to keep running?”

“There is no other choice. It is the life my father chose for me.”

He stood up slowly and walked to the door, knowing there was nothing left to say, “I'm sorry that there's no alternative for you.”

She smiled, a bittersweet gesture that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “You are one of the strangest and most bewildering men I have ever met. Thank you, for your compassion. I will remember it always.”

He smiled back, “You're welcome.”

He left without another word, closing the door softly behind him and walking back to main room of the penthouse. The voices beyond grew louder as he approached. Thor was still reprimanding Tony, but it seemed the billionaire wasn't paying attention.

“What were you doing for so long, Capsicle,” he jeered. “Giving her a therapy session?”

Anger boiled up in Steve at the jab, as he knew it was mocking both himself and Freyja. And no, Loki wasn't on Steve's best friends list, but Freyja didn't deserve Tony's taunts. Especially after all she was dealing with.

“You're a bigoted ass, you know that?” he said, walking towards the bar.

Tony raised an eyebrow, “What's gotten your spandex in a knot?”

“How could you do that to her?”

“Uh, easy. You can't say she didn't deserve it.”

“She didn't, actually,” Steve snapped. “And you would know this if you’d listen to her once in a while.”

His eyebrows shot up higher, “And you have? Has she given you a straight answer?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, she has.”

“So you know why she's so deluded by the creep-”

Thor slammed his fist down on the bar, denting the metal and startling both men, “Do not speak of Freyja or my brother in such a manner!”

Giving Thor one last glance, Tony turned his attention back to Steve, “Why'd she tell you anything? She doesn't trust the rest of us, so why you?”

Steve fell silent, trying to think of a reason that entirely made sense. She had said that it was because she was leaving but, all things considered, it felt more like she had only given him half of the truth. Why did she trust him enough to tell him more? Why was he the only one to know what she had lived through?

“Maybe she's gotten over Rock of Ages and has a thing for you,” Tony mused, grinning widely.

Steve flushed, “That's ridiculous.”

“Whatever her reason, I don't trust her,” Natasha muttered.

“What reasons have you to doubt her?” Thor demanded.

“She obviously still has feelings for Loki,” Natasha pointed out. “Who's to say she won't help him if he asks? We don't even know her, not with all of the secrets she keeps.”

“Spoken like a true hypocrite,” Tony laughed as he took a sip of his drink.

“Hey!” Clint snapped, standing up from her seat on the couch. “You wanna say that again, Tony?”

“I'm just saying that Freyja's not the only one who keeps secrets, or the only one who's cryptic.”

“And you're just Mr. Perfect, aren't you?”

“I never said that,” he said before continuing quietly. “But I'm pretty damn close.”

“You know what-”

“ENOUGH!”

The room descended into silence, all eyes turning to Thor as the last echoes of his shout faded away. He looked around at them each, his stormy blue eyes meeting each of theirs, and gave a sigh.

“This is not how we behave towards each other,” he pointed out.

“Thor’s right,” Natasha agreed. “Tensions are just a little high. We should call it a night. Come on, Clint.”

Though Clint looked a bit peeved about it, he said nothing as he followed Natasha out. Bruce was the next to get to his feet, mumbling something about going to bed early, before making his way to the elevator. Steve watched them go as he thought about getting back to his apartment. It was when he turned to announce this that he noticed Thor. The thunder god was staring at him strangely, as though looking at him might give him the answer to a difficult question.

Steve raised his eyebrows at Thor, expecting some sort of explanation, but he simply looked away. Deciding it wasn’t worth pursuing, he headed towards the elevator. It was getting late, after all, and Freyja had given him a lot to think about. He didn’t notice Thor staring at him as he left.


	13. Chapter 12: Deadly Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While reminiscing on her past, Freyja gets a short visit from an unwelcome guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for how late this chapter is. I was halfway through editing when I realized I didn't like the content, so I rewrote it. I promise I will return to my schedule.

_“Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy.”_

–F. Scott Fitzgerald

* * *

 

Freyja couldn't sleep. Her head was too full with worries and memories, both recent and distant, for her to calm her mind enough to so much as rest. The responses of each of the Avengers had been less than satisfactory and she couldn't help wonder if she could have changed that in any way. But by doing what? She couldn't force them to see Loki differently. She supposed she could have, if she really wanted to, but such tactics were immoral. And the more she thought of their opinions, the more she felt her own uncertainty regarding his actions.

Perhaps the solution had to do with Loki himself. Could she have changed the path he had taken? She knew the answer was yes. Frigga, Thor, and many others had always told her she was the only person who could change Loki’s mind on many matters. She was the only one who could sway his moods and talk him out of the more ridiculous of his schemes. She could have returned to Asgard, and helped him with the pain of the truth. But something worse would have happened in the end had she returned.

Asgard, and ultimately everyone she loved, would have been destroyed. She could never live with herself if that happened – she could barely cope with the fact that her own people were dead because of her mistakes. And then there was the fact that Loki had turned to the destruction of Earth and she had no idea of the matter. How Thanos had gotten to him even despite the measures she took to protect him.

She remembered when she had made him that promise. He had looked at her as though she had lost her mind, but hadn’t told her she was incapable of such. Instead, he had promised he would protect her, as well. It wasn’t possible, she had known, given what she had been told of her future all her life. Few people had a destiny in her Realm, but those that did were supposed to feel blessed to serve a higher purpose. It had felt more like a curse when she knew Loki wouldn’t be able to do as he promised.

 “Do you not trust me to keep my oath?” he had once asked, looking confused and hurt by her response. “I know I am not as strong as Thor…that I cannot lift a hammer or swing an axe, but that does not mean I cannot protect you.”

She had looked into his emerald green eyes, unable to tell him why he couldn’t possible protect her entirely. It would have broken his heart to know the truth.

“I know,” she had said in reply.

And he had smiled.

She had never told him the real answer. She trusted him with her life, and it was the full truth, but some things were inevitable. It had never seemed too important to her given that they were only friends. Though it would have been painful, she could have easily gone to her fate with a simple goodbye. But the unexpected had happened: she began to see him differently.

She could not name what it was at the time, but something had been different. The flash of his teeth when he smiled, the shine of his deep green eyes when he laughed, the way he scrunched his nose when he was deep in thought, the way his fingers would subconsciously trace imaginary circles on a surface when he wasn't truly listening. Nothing had changed and, yet, nothing was the same, either. She hadn't realized it was herself that was different.

A week after that and she had found that he, too, saw her differently. He knew her every habit, her every strength and weakness. He relished when her strange electric blue eyes shone with happiness, craved her smile and laughter, smiled as she bit her lip when facing a problem. Worse, he had become oddly envious of the time she spent around the suitors her father had sent her way, even when he knew she felt nothing towards them. And she had not been aware of this until he had told her much later.

It had only been a month before the Inga’s Night when Freyja found out what had changed between them. Loki had knocked lightly on her door in the still of the night, only a day after they had kissed. She had opened it quickly, sensing something was wrong, and had nearly dropped the candelabrum when she saw him.

His face had been bruised and battered, blood running down from his nose as he held a filthy rag to it. His hair and clothes had been disheveled and the leather torn in areas. His left eye had been on the verge of swelling up, though it remained open, as well as his bottom lip. He had looked as though he had fought an armada single-handedly and lost.

“By _Sophossentia_ ,” she had whispered. “What happened?”

“May I come in? I need your aid,” he muttered, his tone dismissive in his weariness.

“I can see that,” she answered, opening the door so he could come in.

As he had limped past her, he exhaled in relief and she could smell ale on his breath. He had been drinking  _and_ brawling. She had locked the door behind him, stifling a grimace at the thought, and sat him down on the bed. She had known why he needed her to heal him. If he had used magic in that state, it would have killed him.

She’d tapped the hand holding the bloodied rag, gesturing for him to lower it. Much to her dismay, his nose was broken close to the bridge, the entire area transformed into a purple mess of broken blood vessels. Besides the bruises and scratches, nothing else had been visibly wrong with him.

“Is it your face alone that took the brunt of the damage?”

“Not exactly,” he had said with a wince, starting to unravel the strips of leather that were woven over his stomach.

“Don't,” she had warned. “I'll handle this.”

She had taken off the leather trench coat he wore and had continued to remove the strips from his hands, unraveling them as well as the strips of emerald green silk mixed in. Finally pulling back the last bits of chainmail and leather, she had pulled up the black silk shirt underneath, sucking in a breath of surprise at the sight. He would have had less bruising if Thor had hit him with a tree trunk. She had known this, sadly enough, from experience. When she had touched his cool skin, she had found it rigid from internal bleeding.

“What did you do?” she had demanded, motioning for him to lie down.

“I found myself in a fight with Odr.”

She had nearly dropped his clothes in surprise at the name of her most persistent suitor. She looked him in the eye, trying not to let her disgust show in her expression.

“You and I both know you do not simply 'find' yourself in a fight, Loki Odinson.”

He had smiled at that, “Alright, I may have landed the first blow.”

“Damn you for your antics,” she had hissed, running her hands over his abdomen to heal the bleeding. “I keep quiet when you continue your potentially dangerous hoaxes, but must you also antagonize men to violence?”

“In reality,  _he_  provoked  _me_.”

She had glanced up at his face, her fingers trailing silver smoke even as she stopped the spell, and he didn’t waver in his earnest expression. The intensity in his gaze had made her embarrassed and she had looked away quickly. Peeling back the rest of his shirt, she had busied herself by searching for more wounds of any kind.

“Are you not going to ask me what he did?”

She had sighed, “Do I truly want to know?”

“I do not see how your father approves of Odr. He acts as though you are a prize to be won, merely a pretty trinket to collect. It sickens me.”

“You were offended by something he said?” she had asked.

He had looked at her so solemnly, his emotions completely unguarded, “He bragged to the entire bar that your father had all but promised him your hand. And then proceeded to lament at how…how fragile your race is, how he would likely break you during the consummation of your marriage. He laughed about making you bleed.”

“Those are just the words of a drunk, Loki,” she had muttered, but it had taken all of her strength not to shiver in disgust.

“He meant them,” Loki had whispered. “I felt it.”

She had sighed at his reasoning, “I don't need you getting hurt because you think you must defend my honor.”

“If I do not, then who will?”

She had looked away from his imploring green eyes, “I can defend it myself, thank you. My people may not be as physically strong as yours but, so long as I have my magic, I am safe.”

He had winced as she moved her work to his mutilated face, “But you are a pacifist. A person who does not fight cannot defend herself.”

“No, a person who does not fight cannot attack. Not all defensive magic is violent. Now, stop moving, or you will make matters worse.”

He had opened his mouth to speak once more, but had apparently decided against it. She had done her best to heal him that night, but some things would just need time, like the residual aches. Pain had rolled off of him in waves as he tried to get up. She had put a hand to his chest, forcing him to lie back down.

“I should leave for my chambers,” he had protested.

“You should stay here and rest while you can,” she had replied, pulling the down comforter around him. “It will do nothing but ruin my work if you walk to your chambers now.”

He had sighed, remaining where he lay, but had asked, “Where will you sleep?”

“Right next to you,” she had answered instantly, slipping onto the empty half of the mattress.

“What of propriety?”

“Oh, come now, Loki,” she had snapped, snuffing out the candles with a wave of her hand. “We used to share a bed many a time as children. Besides, there is more than enough room for the both of us.”

She could feel his discomfort despite the several inches between them, and it had become obvious that he could not rest in such a state. So she did the only thing she could think of. She allowed tendrils of her aura to meander throughout the room, coiling around everything in reach, until the very floor was covered by the silver smoke. She had felt his pain recede at the familiar touch of her aura, even as she gave him some of her strength.

She had begun to sing a lullaby in her own language, one that her nursemaid in Vanaheim had sang to her when she couldn't sleep. Loki had sighed in relief from his spot on the bed and drifted off to sleep not long after.

Freyja didn’t notice when she started to hum the tune idly while reminiscing. Nor did she remember, when the morning came, when exactly sleep took her. But as reality relinquished its hold on her, she drifted off into a memory that she regarded with mixed feelings.

_She was ten at the time and Loki was barely over twelve. But he kneeled in front of her in silence, nothing in his posture betraying him if he was nervous, his eyes closed as though he trusted her completely. She had her hands on either side of his head, slowly chanting the incantation for the Awakening. She had to make absolutely sure that everything was running smoothly._

_They had been in the tower since sunrise and now it was nearly noon. The process should have taken a lot less time, according to the journals regarding Eirik’s trials, but she wanted to make sure nothing hurt Loki. She had altered the spell, adding in a few charms that would protect his mind from what might harm him during the ritual._

_She was almost done, that much she could tell from the brightening glow of his aura around his body. She just needed to finish this last crucial part. If anything went wrong here, she knew, the consequences would be deadly. She just hoped she had enough energy to sustain the last portion of the Awakening._

_Her hair had already turned grey, as it did when she was using too much energy, but she couldn't afford to stop halfway through. She couldn't borrow some of Loki's energy either, as he needed it for his body and mind to properly cope with the changes. She could do nothing but hope for the best as she continued._

_As she uttered the last syllable, something unexpected happened. Though there was no physical change, no perceptional difference, she could just feel it. Something was going horribly wrong. Loki's aura struck out in retaliation, the wave of energy making Freyja fly backwards into the stone wall. She tried to stay conscious as she picked herself off the ground. She glanced toward the center of the room in fear, trying to focus as the whole room seemed to turn on its side._

_Loki was lying limp on the ground, his body unnaturally still. She rushed to him, checking for breathing or a heartbeat, her frantic terror cutting through the exhaustion. He was barely breathing and his pulse was escalating dangerously. Worse, when she entered his mind to check on him, she could feel his consciousness tearing at the seams like paint on the side of an old ship. He was dying. And she didn't have the energy to save him._

_“Guards!” she shrieked, not knowing what else to do. “Guards, help!”_

_Within a few minutes, the locked door was broken and the guards were rushing their prince, along with her, to the healing rooms. She couldn't think straight as they ran through the palace. Despite the confusion, one thought replayed itself over and over in her mind. She was the reason Loki was dying._

_When they reached the infirmary, Freyja broke away from the guard's hold and ran to where the Healers were working to see what was wrong with him. One of them, who she recognized to be another Vanir, quickly told the others of the problem._

_All heads turned to her, condemnation in all of their eyes. She thought it couldn't get any worse but, much to her grief, she was wrong. Odin, Frigga, and Thor all ran in not long after. Her heart dropped as she saw their faces. Thor turned to face her, anger and grief and betrayal all mixed into one heartbreaking expression._

_“What's wrong with Loki?” he demanded. “What have you done to him?”_

_She shook her head fervently, “I didn't mean to! I thought-”_

_She went quiet when Odin's stormy grey eyes met hers. Frigga was now holding Loki's hand, murmuring under her breath in what Freyja recognized as Vaniric._

_“What happened?” Odin demanded._

_“Your majesty, I believe Princess Freyja attempted to Awaken his mind…” the Vanir Healer said, trailing off as he saw the All-Father’s expression._

_Odin took hold off her shoulders, his fingers digging painfully into her skin and Freyja had to force back the memories of her father, “Is this true?”_

_She nodded, tears running down her face, “I didn't know…I thought I was capable.”_

_“There's nothing we can do, sire. The prince will not see the next dawn.”_

_Now truly everyone looked at her with silent accusations, and they had the right to. She was the sole reason Loki lay dying in the cot. She ran from the room, wanting to cry and scream and curse the world, ashamed and horrified at how her actions had gone._

_Loki had begged her to attempt Awakening him, he had never stopped pleading. He had known the consequences and told her he was willing to take the risk. Now her best friend was slowly, painfully dying as his mind fell apart._

_She sunk down to the floor of the hall outside, her back against the wall. Feeling helpless and disgusted with herself, she wrapped her arms around her legs and cried into her knees. She hadn't meant for it to go this way, hadn’t meant for Loki to get hurt because of her, she had even modified the incantations so that the outcome would be successful. And it hadn't worked._

_One thought went through her mind, and that was that if her father didn't kill her for this, Odin would. She knew the Asgardian laws, had studied months to make sure she had learned every aspect of their culture, a death required vengeance on the murderer. She would die soon after Loki did._

_She didn't pay attention to Odin leading Frigga and Thor out hours later, nor when the Healers left the infirmary for the night. She felt as if she was alone in the dark and soon she truly was. When the sun was finally setting, and she had stopped crying long enough to see, she stood up and walked into the infirmary. Loki still lay on the cot, paler than usual. She sat down on the chair next to him and took his hand._

_“I'm sorry,” she whispered, not knowing if he could hear her or not. “I thought I could fix the incantation, make it successful. I was wrong. Will you forgive me?_ _I know you don't believe in my faith, but I hope to see you again among the stars, even if you do not wish to see me. I would understand if you didn’t.”_

_She sat in silence, searching through the shattering remains of his mind. She realized something then, something that could potentially save him. It might kill her, especially when she had so little energy left, but it might save Loki._

_She began to chant again, picking the words out of her memory and creating a new spell to match what she needed. No one had ever thought of something so crazy before, or perhaps they had and simply decided against it, but maybe she was a little crazy for doing such a thing. Perhaps crazy was exactly what she needed given the circumstances._

_Coils of her aura wrapped around Loki, igniting his at the same time. Through the spell, she wove together their minds, their emotions, to create a link between them. She could feel what he was feeling, and she knew, if he still could feel, he could tell what she felt as well. The bond allowed her to share the pain he felt and assess the damage._

_Through the link, she managed to repair the damage she had cause to his mind. Elation flooded through her as she finished, despite the weariness that threatened to engulf her, the darkness creeping over her vision so very. As she uttered the last words, she felt his vitality as strongly as if it were her own. He bolted up straight as she collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. She lost consciousness, but she was vaguely aware of Loki's concern and relief as it flooded through her, and she let herself be carried into the blissful dark._

_She had saved him, and now she didn't care what happened to herself._

_When she woke up next, she was in a cot in the infirmary. Loki was asleep in the chair next to her. She sat up slowly, as every muscle in her body seemed to protest, and examined him silently._ _He was still pale, but in his usual way, his black hair messy and sticking up in areas, dark circles surrounded his eyes, and his mouth hung open slightly. He didn't look particularly healthy, but he was most definitely alive._

 _She could feel his consciousness more than usual, a result of her last minute save, and its tranquility further calmed her own mind._ _Satisfied her work was completed, she laid back down and closed her eyes. She sensed Loki opening his eyes next to her and stretching in his chair._

_“I know you're awake,” he said._

_“I am aware of that,” she answered._

_“Why can I feel your emotions? How come I know whether you are awake, or thinking, or asleep?”_

_She opened one eye to look at him, “Because I created a spell that would save you. And it, in turn, created a mental link between our minds so that I may fix what I had done.”_

_“You should not have done that. Folkvar said you nearly killed yourself trying to save me.”_

_“Folkvar?”_

_“The Vanir Healer. He said he gave you some of his energy so you would not die,”_ _he told her before gesturing to her still grey hair, “Why is your hair not red?”_

_“Consider this your first lesson in magic,” she said, giving a relieved chuckle. “If one uses too much magic at once, the body takes the necessary energy from elsewhere. First, your hair will grey, then your nails will die, your muscles fail next, your bones crumble and disintegrate, everything collapses as the energy is taken.”_

_His green eyes widened, “I did not know that.”_

_“There are many things you do not know,” she sighed, feeling exhausted on numerous levels. “Which I will tell you…at a later time.”_

_“Are you alright?”_

_“Not in the slightest,” she said in a shaky laugh._

_“I forgive you, by the way.”_

_“I beg your pardon?”_

_A small smile crept across his lips, “I heard what you said, and I want you to know that I forgive you. I cannot believe it actually worked. You should have seen the Healers' faces when I called for them.”_

_She went to reply, but Folkvar walked into the room the moment she opened her mouth. He stared at her in surprise before turning to Loki._

_“You were to tell me when she awoke,” he said stiffly._

_“She just came around,” Loki lied._

_Folkvar bowed his head, “I understand. Princess, your father has come and wishes to speak with you. Immediately.”_

_She plastered a fake smile on her face, “Thank you, Folkvar. Please tell him I will see him right away.”_

_“He will be waiting in the Throne Room,” he informed her, bowing and walking out._

_She groaned as soon as the door closed, “Perfect. If Odin does not murder me, my father certainly will.”_

_He laughed, and when she turned to face him, she was in a new memory. He was older now, about twenty by Asgardian standards. She knew he was truly a few centuries old, give or take a decade. His eyes glittered mischievously in the darkness of her chambers._

_“Is that sugar?” he asked incredulously._

_Her hand flew to the spot on her neck that he had been kissing not a second earlier. Sure enough, she could feel the fine powder of confectionary sugar on her skin._

_“Damn Thor!” she exclaimed in horror. “I thought I had gotten it all…”_

_“What, pray tell, does Thor have to do with you being coated with sugar?” he asked curiously._

_“I was speaking with Ottar when he walked in, drunk. I said something he did not agree with, and he threw the first thing he could reach at me, which just so happened to be sugar.”_

_“Hmm. I must remember to send him a thank-you gift,” he mumbled. “In the meantime, however, I will simply have to find the rest.”_

_He began kissing her again, his tongue tracing softly over her skin. She really wasn't sure whether she did or did not like when he kissed her like this. It was an intimate gesture, yet she could still feel his restraint, but it also tickled. Much to her dismay._

_“Stop it!” she laughed, trying to squirm out of his arms that trapped her like a cage. “Loki!”_

_She felt him grin against her skin, but he didn't stop. He continued relentlessly, now barely grazing his teeth across her shoulder, something he knew she loved. His fingers traced their way down her sides, his cold touch both torturing and pleasing._

_“Freyja,” he whispered, tone soft as if it were a secret only they shared._

_“Yes?” she replied softly._

_“I love you. More than I should.”_

_She smiled as he looked up to meet her eyes, “By all rights, I should not love you at all, and yet I love you more than anything in the world. What point are you trying to make?”_

_“Will you be mine alone?”_

_She leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear, “So long as you are mine.”_

_He backed up slightly, his eyes now serious, “Do you not believe that I have given you myself? Would it comfort you if I swore to only to sleep in your bed?”_

_“I should hope you won't, lest I find my bed quite cramped with three,” she teased, thinking about the rumors she had heard._

_He flinched, not realizing she was joking. She had known the rumors had bothered him, but she didn't know they hurt him so. Did he think she truly believed that he was still involved with Sigyn? The entire notion was utterly ridiculous. She knew their brief history, but he had made it clear that she had been no more than a distraction._

_“I swear to you, love, there is nothing between Sigyn and I,” he told her._

_She turned his head so that she could face him, “Is your faith in me so fickle? Do you honestly think I believe the tales spread by drunkards and inn keepers' wives?_

_“Forgive me for my cautions.”_

_“There is nothing to forgive.”_

_She trailed off as she kissed him on the lips, though she was not as reserved as he always was. It drove her insane that he was always so hesitant with her, always prepared for the inexistent moment in which she would tell him to stop, and that the Æsir were reserved in their gestures. Although he gave her everything that pleased her, he held back slightly, a product of both the culture he had been raised in and the insecurities his peers had helped to create. He was afraid of being rebuffed, and she did not blame him for she felt the same fear._

_Something strange happened then. Instead of the memory continuing as she remembered it, Loki broke the kiss. He pulled away, his features twisted into an expression she did not recognize, as though the gesture was not entirely his. A splotch of red blossomed on the front of his black silk shirt. She screamed, but silence was the only thing that filled the room. His lips parted and a single, familiarly haunting voice rang through her head as Loki formed words that were not his own._

“I know what you treasure most, dear Princess. I have not forgotten,”  _the voice hissed._  ”I will find you, sweet Freyja. I may have once spared your precious prince, but you have prolonged my suffering, and so I shall bring you yours. Give me what I want, and I shall half your punishment. Continue to defy me, continue to run and hide like the coward you are, and I will bring you tortures unlike anything you have known. You will know the true meaning of pain.”

Freyja sat up as she was brought back to reality, her body tangled in the sheets. Her eyes scanned the room as she tried desperately to remember where she was. The knowledge that she was in her bedroom in the Avengers Tower, relatively safe for the time being, took her a while to wrap her head around in her fear. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears as the overwhelming terror began to dissipate. Thanos had always had that effect on her, a feeling that was caused by him being the only person able to enter her mind and his poisonous aura. Though he could not manipulate her mind, he could break through many of her defenses, too many for her taste.

A knock on bedroom door made her jump. She shook her head, silently telling herself that it could not possibly be Thanos, and walked over to the door in her white pajamas.

“Freyja? Have you awakened?”

She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous question. Though Thor had changed for the better, she thought, it seemed he still had his penchant for asking ridiculous questions from time to time. It was not that he was an imbecile, but rather a nasty habit that had rubbed off on him from the other Asgardians.

“If I hadn't, I wouldn't be able to answer, now would I?” she called in return.

She opened the door to find him smiling sheepishly as he said, “I suppose not.”

“And why, pray tell, are you here at this hour?”

“You and I must speak with Director Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

She sighed in resignation, “Alright, spare me three minutes. I should be ready by then.”

She closed the door the second he nodded and got dressed slowly. It was all good and well that Thor was to take her to Fury, especially given that she did need to speak with the man. Thanos was still searching for her, and he would eventually wise up and find her on Earth, which would put the entire Realm in danger. She had to leave and soon. But to do that, she would need her ship back and, in turn, need to bargain with S.H.I.E.L.D.

If she didn't leave soon, she would condemn the humans to the horror and devastation Thanos would bring with him. She didn’t want anyone else to die because of her. She would have no more marks on her armlets.


	14. Chapter 13: Devil's Blessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freyja seeks answers from a dubious source when she begins to doubt those closest to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. Very late chapter. But I'm visiting some family (who don't happen to have wi-fi, so I'm mooching off of Starbucks at the moment). I will be back home in four to five days, so updates will go back to normal again. I apologize again.

_“The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which to burn.”_

–David Russell

* * *

 

Freyja leaned against the wall while Thor spoke with Director Fury about getting an apartment of her own or, at the very least, a S.H.I.E.L.D.-owned safe house for her to stay in. She knew she should have said something to them about leaving and stop their pointless conversation, but she didn't know how to start.

Despite the fact that her people were notoriously good with words, she was not a particularly charismatic person. Loki had always been the one who could talk his way into or out of every, and any, situation. He was known as the God of Lies, even though it was persuasion that he preferred to use. She was the quiet one who pulled strings from behind the curtains and her friends were the main attractions.

She supposed her decision to remain out of the spotlight was due to constantly being thrust into it. Being the Princess of Vanaheim and ambassador to Asgard had quite a few disadvantages, many of which stemming from the unwanted attention, as well as being the guard of all the secrets in the Nine Realms. Although her brief stays on Midgard allowed her some quiet, they never could last. She couldn’t afford to stay without bringing something terrible down onto the innocent people of this Realm.

But how could she say this without giving away every secret she had sworn to protect? He did not know the whole truth of why she was running and, even if she could find a way to tell him at that moment without breaking her vows, he would not take the news well. He would try to stop her, try to persuade her that he and the forces of Asgard would be able to help protect her. It was an impossible promise but he would make it regardless. With all of the lives lost because of her weighing heavily in her mind, she knew she could never live with herself if her friends in Asgard died at the hands of Thanos.

“I don't have empty houses at my disposal at this time,” Fury pointed out. “Besides that, you said she told you that she was only staying until she returns to Asgard, making a safe house unnecessary.”

“I beg your pardon?” she exclaimed, turning to Thor as Fury’s words shattered her idle thoughts. “I have never once said those words. When did you plan to tell me that you had planned out my future in my place?”

Thor grimaced, “I planned to inform you when it was relevant.”

“Relevant? When would it have been relevant, Thor? While you personally dragged me back?” she said. “I have already said I cannot return to Asgard.”

“You must!”

“I can’t!”

“Am I missing something here?” Fury asked.

“Nothing which concerns you in any sense,” she snapped at the Director. “It is a little too late to catch up, and you are hardly entitled to know every detail of our lives, so I would very much appreciate it if you would give Thor and I a moment alone.”

“And I would appreciate it if aliens would stop using Earth for a pit stop,” Fury replied. “But that, apparently, ain’t happening. As it is, there are too many blanks at the moment, and you seem to have all the answers.”

“The answers you seek are the ones I cannot give you,” she sighed in irritation, becoming increasingly tired with the repeating conversation.

“It's not as if the information you give will be shared with anyone. Most of it will require Level Nine clearance.”

“Just tell him,” Thor implored her.

She looked at him incredulously, “Whose side are you on?”

“We are all on the same side, Freyja.”

“Evidently not, especially when you ask me to betray the memory of my people.”

“Just tell me what the Tesseract is and I won't bother you any further,” Fury offered. “It’s not much to ask.”

“You want to know what the Tesseract is?” she said, her patience wearing thin. “It is one of the most powerful forces in the entirety of the universe. The full explanation is difficult enough for my kind to have trouble comprehending it, so what makes you believe that such a primitive race as yours can do better?”

“Freyja!” Thor exclaimed.

Freyja turned her attention onto the blonde prince, “Oh, do not act as though my words offend you when even you have complained at how Stark believes you incompetent with the technology your grandfathers used. Besides, if anyone is to blame for the Tesseract, it is you Æsir.”

“Why is it we take the blame for everything done recently?” he demanded.

“It was  _your people_  who demanded we give you a home, _your people_ who grew greedy when we did, _your people_ who demanded we share our knowledge, _your people_ who sought after the Tesseract in order to strong-arm us into giving you what you wanted. Had your people not sought what you could not have, we wouldn’t have had to take the Tesseract from you in the first place!”

“So it is the fault of the Asgardians when the Vanir failed at keeping it hidden?”

“It wouldn’t have needed me to keep it hidden had your kind not been so damnably arrogant!”

“You speak as if your people were not arrogant!”

“And you as if you were not the same,” she retorted. “You may not like it, but it is the condescension of your people that leads to _every_ war which erupts within the Nine Realms!”

“So that’s it, is it? You are blaming me for what happened to Loki!”

“Loki-?” Fury started, but was cut off as Freyja shouted back at him.

“Why must everything revolve around your brother? This has nothing to do with Loki!”

“Yes it does, I can see it in your eyes. You believe it is my fault that Loki found out who he is and, yes, it stemmed from my arrogance – but also from his tricks. You believe it is my fault that I was not there for him when he needed me. But, if anyone is to blame, it is you! None of us have ever been able to change Loki's mind but you. And yet when he needed you most, you were off roaming the Nine Realms, pretending to be dead!”

She clenched her jaw, biting her tongue. If she opened her mouth now, after Thor had all but slapped her in the face, it would not be English she would speak. She would likely incite a curse upon him. She clenched her fists, wondering if it would relieve any stress if she struck him. Maybe it would knock some sense into him. Did he truly think she was unaware of how much it was her fault?

But then, her eyes softened as she thought of what he had said. She was sort of blaming him. Both of them knew it, and even knew that the blame laid with no one person, but she didn’t want to face her own troubles in the matter. She didn’t want to think about whether or not she had made the right choices, if she was still making the right choices, so she was pinning the blame on the closest person.

“If your little spat is over,” Fury said sternly. “I still need to know who's going where and what's going to be done with the Tesseract.”

“We will return to Asgard within the week,” Thor answered.

“Thor will return to Asgard within the week, I will leave within the next two days for the farthest realm I can find,” she corrected. “And you will know no more of the Tesseract than when I first came.”

“I can't let you leave without getting some information,” Fury spoke up. “It’s the least you could do after all we’ve down for you.”

The glance she shot him was sharp and cold, warning him silently as she spoke, “If you do not allow me to leave, you will seal the fate of your people. You do not know what enemy craves the power you seek answers of. He will rip through your world as a child does paper. Thanos destroyed my world in a matter of hours, and my people were gifted with magic, so do not doubt me when I say he will stop at nothing until he has the Tesseract.”

“Thanos?” Thor asked. “The Mad Titan? The warlord?”

“Not just any warlord,” she laughed humorlessly. “The warlord who has studied the workings of the Tesseract for so long, he can wield a fraction of them on his own. The same warlord who exposed Loki to its corruptive powers and supplied him with the Chitauri army. The same warlord who employed Merek and held me captive so many eons ago.”

Thor paled at the memory of Freyja’s kidnapping, remembering how pale and weak she had looked when she had returned to Asgard. She had been so close to death, her very body beginning to wither away, and silent as to what had happened to her. He had spent decades wondering what could do that to a Vanir. Now he had his answer, on top of now knowing that it was the same creature who had bent Loki’s mind to its will, and he was no longer sure he was ready for such knowledge.

“If we’re supposed to be worried about this warlord, how come we’ve never heard of him before now?” Fury asked.

“He was the greatest mistake of the Realms and you think that we’d tell your kind?” she countered. “Particularly when, at the time, your people still believed disease was divine wrath and that flies spontaneously came into being. You were no more ready for such knowledge than you are now.”

“You can't intimidate me into letting you leave,” Fury said sternly.

“I am not attempting to intimidate you!” she exclaimed helplessly. “I am trying to warn you, but it seems you are more thick-headed than the Jötunns and Asgardians combined!”

“Look, the World Security Council has been on my ass for answers and you’re the only one who has them,” he remarked. “Given that I haven’t said a word regarding your stay here, on Thor’s request, I might add, I don’t think answers are too much to ask for.”

“Fine, you want answers Yes. No,” she started answering sarcastically. “It's possible, though not particularly probable. There’s a seventy-eight percent chance of you finding solid proof of string theory. 1.77245-”

“I don't need the square root of pi,” he said irritably. “I need to know what is in the Tesseract.”

“No, you  _want_ to know what is in the Tesseract, what you  _need_  is to let it go.”

“Look-”

“You look. You have two choices, which is the same as saying you have none: you can try to hold me here, in which you will fail spectacularly, or you can let me leave and I will forget you ever thought about such a ridiculous notion. The choice is yours.”

She turned around and strode out the door, too irritated to bother waiting for his reply. Her frustration wasn't concentrated as it stemmed towards and from several sources. She was angry at Thor for even thinking of lying to her, annoyed at Fury for thinking he could keep her there, furious at Loki for creating the mess he had, and even more irate with herself for coming in the first place and getting herself into the mess that was now her life.

It occurred to her, as more of an errant thought amongst the madness, that she had not meditated that morning as she had left with Thor immediately after waking. She was in serious need of it now, if it would even work at this point in her life. Humans, with their ever-changing atmosphere, seemed to reduce the results of meditation. She did, however, know of one solution that could calm her down and help her out at the same time: Loki.

She walked briskly through the halls, gaining strange looks from the agents, as she searched for an empty room. It took quite a bit of wandering to find a relatively deserted area of the Triskelion and when she finally found a room, she leaned against the wall and slid wearily to the floor. Her most recent headache made it all the more difficult to project herself across the Yggdrasil but she managed it eventually.

Loki was lying on his silver cot, staring at the ceiling once more. It seemed to be something he did a lot these days. Something about his expression upset her, as she knew immediately that he was dwelling on something unpleasant, and she hoped he would not be too distracted. She could see it in the way his mouth was set and the way his fingertips absentmindedly traced strange shapes into the metal surface. He looked over at her when he realized she was there, the lethargy fading away from his face.

“Hello, love.”

She couldn't help but smile at his nickname for her. Neither of them could remember when she had stopped being ‘Freyja, princess of Vanaheim’ in his eyes, simply becoming his ‘love’, as though the familiarity had stripped away the last of their formality. One day she had simply become 'love', and now she couldn't imagine ever going back.

“Does it trouble you that you call me by an endearment and yet I still call you by your name?” she asked, genuinely curious.

He chuckled lightly, “Of course not. It's not by what name you call me…” – he stood up and walked around to her back, leaning in to whisper in her ear – “…but how you say it.”

She smiled sadly as she remembered how he used to whisper to her after she had told him that she enjoyed it, and how he had teased her relentlessly for it. Her explanation as to why had been incomplete, almost incapable of being verbally described, but he had never complained about it. She sensed he remembered it, too. But his playful smile faded when he looked in her eyes.

“Something is wrong,” he guessed. “This is not simply a pleasure visit, is it?”

“I came to ask for advice,” she sighed, sitting down on his cot.

He raised his eyebrows, sitting down next to her, “You've come to ask advice of me? Sorry to disappoint, but I do not think I can help you here. You and I both know you were the wiser of us.”

“You are the only one I can think to ask,” she answered. “You are the only one I trust to give me mostly unbiased answers.”

“Ask away, but I cannot guarantee an answer that will help,” he told her.

She leaned her back against the wall, her shoulder brushing his as she did, “I am at a crossroads. Three main paths extend before me, but I find myself hesitating for all three are paved in blood. Two in the blood of others, of my friends, and one in my own. I do not consider walking the roads where others shall die for the sake of my own personal wishes, but I will slowly kill myself on the third and it will not be long after that the rest follow me.

“There is no way to go back and I know I must choose the third path, but I do not believe I have the strength to do so forever. I suppose my question is what you believe I should do?”

He was silent, thinking carefully about what she had said. She turned her head to watch him. She knew he was reflecting on his own memories as well as trying to think of an answer. She wondered how he saw himself, how he saw what he did, or if he hid from it the way she did her own mistakes. She wouldn't read his mind, out of courtesy. She knew he would tell her anyway. They had made an agreement long ago: she would not manipulate his mind in any way and he would never lie to her, half-truth or otherwise.

“I cannot say what you should do, for I have no answer for you,” he said at last. “I suppose the only thing you can do is walk the third path as best you can. After all, if there is anyone strong enough to do so, it is you.”

She looked down at her hands, somehow knowing this would be his answer. Beside her, Loki was thinking again about something troubling. She could feel it, practically hear his mind working away at his interest, and could no longer remain silent. Gently skimming the edges of his mind, she let him know that she wondered what he was thinking.

“Does it ever trouble you?” he said suddenly.

“What?”

He looked at her, his green eyes somber, “Does it trouble you that your father knew this might happen to you, but made you carry the burden regardless?”

She gave a sigh, wishing that he had been thinking of anything except her father, “The problem with my father is that he never cared. He fell in love once, it ruined his life, and he never wanted to feel such pain again. To prevent any similar disaster, he refused to create any sort of connection between himself and anyone. But you are not truly asking about my father, are you?”

He went silent, answering her with his emotions rather than his words.

“Pitiful excuses for fathers, unlawful children and broken families,” she whispered. “Seems to be the norm for royalty…Or, at least, for us.”

“It would seem so.”

“You were right, you know.”

“About what?”

“I should have run away with you when you offered. I should have left it all behind. Neither Vanaheim nor Asgard was in need of you or I. Thanos would have never found me the first time, there would no danger threatening you or Asgard or anyone I come in contact with, and things would have been different. I was a fool to say no, especially when we could have been happy.”

“No, you were not. It was selfish of me to ask you to leave everything simply to be with you.”

“What would you do, if you were in my position?”

“I do not do well when given certain roads,” he pointed out. “I tend to make my own.”

“Make my own path…”

“It’s often simpler to make my own path rather than conform to the one set down by others.”

“I cannot simply take the easy road.”

“I never said it was an easy choice, I simply said it is often more so than what is offered.”

She fiddled with her –his, in reality – emerald ring, thinking about the idea. He glanced down at her hand, his eyes softening as he spotted it.

“Why did you keep my ring?”

“I have told you why.”

“You told me you could not part with it. That is hardly a reason.”

“It reminded me of you,” she conceded. “Spurred me on when I felt as if I should give in to Thanos. When I would feel my strength waning, I would look at it and I could imagine you telling me to continue, to not give up.”

“Was it in the nagging way you encouraged me when I could not perform an incantation correctly?”

“I did not nag you!” she laughed. “I simply tried to heighten your morale.”

“And you did a  _marvelous_  job,” he said sarcastically.

“Did you not attempt once more afterwards?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “You can be very persuasive.”

“Only in your eyes.”

“You say many things about yourself can only be seen through my eyes.”

“I could say the same of you.”

“Are you so blind? So completely unaware of yourself?”

“I have been blind for a long time, Loki. Many of us are.”

He thought about that, a perplexed expression crossing his face that made her laugh. He was utterly lost, having no clue what she was speaking of, and yet was trying to see what she meant and how it applied to him. She honestly thought he should riddle it out by himself. His puzzlement was amusing, and she loved when she genuinely had him grasping for the answer. It was, after all, a phenomenon that did not occur often.

She suddenly sobered, thinking about earlier that morning. When she had said he was the only one she trusted to be unbiased, it was true. So many people in her life had ulterior motives and, among the few that she truly had left, she couldn’t even trust herself to be completely altruistic. But Loki had always been able to soothe her anxieties and provide her with a fresh perspective – a different angle.

However, since his time under the control of the Mind Stone, he had become a slightly different person. Of course, she knew no one could experience what he had and return mentally unscathed. A complete mental upheaval was a difficult thing to go through. Not to mention that it had brought him into the attention of Thanos, a thought which caused Freyja much grief. She feared that the Eternal would come back for him in order to hurt her. What would she do if he decided to kill Loki this time?

“I need you to promise me something,” she said softly.

“Anything,” he replied easily.

“I need you to promise me that you will never deliberately put yourself in danger. If danger finds you, do not fight foolishly. Do not play the heroic prince who fights until his death.”

He turned to her in surprise, “You want me to run?”

“I want you to stay alive,” she corrected.

“What has prompted such a request?”

“Thanos has warned me that his patience runs thin.”

His green eyes widened, an alarmed edge carved into the lines between his brows, “Thanos has contacted you?”

“Indirectly,” she informed him, placing her hand over his in the hopes of providing some small sense of comfort. “He has said that he will show me every definition of pain, but there is nothing more anyone can do to me. Except hurt the ones I love.”

“You will not lose me, love.”

She shook her head, “Please, Loki, just promise me this.”

“You have my word.” he agreed, giving her fingers a soft squeeze. “But allow me to request something of you, as well: whatever you choose to do, be sure it is the right choice. You do not want to make the same mistakes I have.”

The smile she offered him was one of sadness, a bittersweet expression rather than a hopeful one, “I will do my best.”

“You will do what you think is right. I know you will.”

She shook her head, “I will do what I  _feel_  is right, not what I think. It is my curse, to be forever heart-bound, no matter the consequences.”

“How is it a curse and not a blessing?”

“Look at my life, Loki. I felt that it was best to admit my love for you, so I shattered the remains of my family. I felt it was right to fight with my people against Thanos, and left you to think me dead as a result. I felt I should protect you and the whole of Asgard from death by endlessly running, but look what you have done in my absence. I have destroyed my own life because of my selfishness.”

“You are not selfish-”

“If I were not, I would not torture you so. I know what you feel towards my actions, and you know what I feel towards yours. If I were a good friend, I would take away your memories of me and let you move on. Or I would return to help you find your way once more. Instead, I taunt you with the possibility of happiness. I drag you along to believe I could find happiness, that we could be anything more than we are, but I only hurt both you and myself. I am a selfish monster, but I cannot change.”

“You are not the monster among us…”

She gave a sigh, “You imply that you are the monster, but you are not a terrible person. You have just made the wrong choices.”

“I've condemned myself.”

“I believe in second chances-”

“And what of thirds?” he asked bitterly.

“Redemption does not have a limit.”

“But it does have a limited number of opportunities.”

“I believe you've already countered that statement earlier,” she pointed out. “Simply make a new opportunity.”

He smiled, “And what will be your new opportunity? After all, you did come here to discuss your choices.”

“I don't know.”

“You will find an answer,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “I have complete faith in you.”

She closed her eyes for a single instant, trying to trick her mind into imagining that no time had passed. With the outside world blocked out, and only the feel of Loki close to her, she could almost believe that nothing had gone wrong. But he could see such thoughts on the fringes of her mind. And she could, in return, feel how he ached for those days as much as she did. They could only pretend for so long.

“I love you,” he said, the words more akin to a plea.

She turned to kiss him softly on the lips, “I love you, too.”

When she broke the kiss, his green eyes were filled with guilt. Something was troubling him, something he refused to speak of, but she couldn't think of what exactly it might be. Regret echoed off of him like a voice in a cave. She knew he would tell her if she asked, but he would not want to, and she wouldn’t press him for it. He would talk to her about it if he found the need.

“You should probably go,” he said softly. “No doubt, someone has noticed your absence.”

She sighed, “As you wish.”

“May _Sophossentia_ give you the strength you need,” he said in her language, his accent almost perfect now.

Her head snapped up at the sentence, azure eyes filled with surprise. The blessing was common among Vanir, often said in times of emotional distress, but never so much as uttered among the other races. Words carried power in the language of her people and often coming true. Blessings and curses were not thrown about nonchalantly, like the fickle promise from a small child. It had been one of the first lessons she had taught him: words may be slung together in whatever form pleases the speaker, but vows must be hand-picked and analyzed critically.

“And may He offer you His guidance and protection,” she replied in the same tongue.

“Goodbye, love,” he whispered, his words falling on deaf ears as her projection faded from sight.

Freyja opened her eyes to find herself back in the empty room, as she had expected. What she hadn't expected was the door opening exactly as she stood up. The door slid open silently, which was rather surprising given that both the door and the wall were metal, to reveal none other than Natasha Romanoff. Her eyes narrowed as her face contorting into a mask of distrust when she saw the other red-head.

Not exactly who Freyja would have preferred to see, but definitely who she could ask what she needed to. Natasha just wasn't going to like what she wanted.


	15. Chapter 14: Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freyja finds that her greatest present fear isn't all that bad (and is actually a competent archery opponent).

_Moving on, is a simple thing, what it leaves behind is hard.”_

–Dave Mustaine

* * *

 

Natasha glared at Freyja suspiciously, “What are you doing here?”

 _Perhaps_ , Freyja thought suddenly,  _my question can wait._

“A pleasure to see you as well, Natasha,” she sighed, intent on being polite regardless of the spy’s tone. “Now, if you would be so kind as to excuse me-”

She tried to circle around the agent, but Natasha simply moved to block her.

“What are you doing here?” she repeated.

Well, if Natasha was going to push her…

“I am honestly beginning to lose my patience with you humans believing you can force me to answer your questions. I do not have to answer you and, quite frankly, I do not have to do anything you ask.”

“We wouldn't ask so many questions if you were more open.”

“Long ago, I learned three can keep a secret if two are dead. Need I remind you of the time you learned that very same lesson, daughter of Drakov?”

Natasha's eyes flared in anger as she snapped, “Stay out of my mind!”

“There is your mistake,” Freyja said. “I am not looking into your mind. Do not blame me if you broadcast your past and thoughts into your aura. It is not as though I can ignore what is right before my eyes.”

“You're not the only one who can read people,” Natasha told her. “What is it that you want to ask so desperately?”

Freyja shrugged, “It can wait until your mood has lightened. As it is, I doubt you will enjoy the query.”

“Spit it out, I don't have time to waste.”

If Natasha wanted it so desperately, she would give her the question, “How do you live with yourself?”

“Excuse me?!”

Freyja shook her head, cursing herself for not taking into account the fact that the all-tongue spell only translated loosely, causing some of her sentences to seem harsher than she intended. She gave a sigh and tried to think of a better alternative.

“Allow me to rephrase that - your dialect and meaning is different than mine and my words often come out wrong,” she explained. “You have the blood of many on your hands, far more death in your past than anyone should have to live with, and believe me when I say that I understand. You try to hide the guilt, but it is plain in your aura. My question to you is how do you overcome the guilt?”

“That's none of your business,” she snarled.

“I simply request your advice on the topic.”

“What do you have to regret?”

“What have I to regret?” she asked incredulously, laughing humorlessly. “You are not the only one to have…blood on your hands.”

“You killed someone? According to Fury and Thor, you haven't killed so much as a mosquito. If you have anything to regret, it's your attachment to that monster you can't let go.”

Freyja felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. Of course Thor wouldn’t bring up Merek, as he had never thought of her actions as anything more than self-defense, but he didn’t know about how many deaths she had caused indirectly. Thanos had murdered them, but it was Freyja who had practically handpicked the victims. But Natasha pointing out Loki and what he had done under Thanos’s control? It was a cheap trick, a low blow, to bring up Loki. Before Freyja could retort, Natasha continued.

“How can  _you_  live with  _yourself_ , loving that psychotic murderer? He has killed hundreds, not caring how many families he tore apart in the process. He ruthlessly drove his army through New York, destroyed countless homes, tried to kill all of us. He tried to take over Earth, to enslave us. And yet you still sympathize with him.”

“Don't you dare say a word against Loki!” Freyja yelled. “You claim he is a monster, and you a saint. Have you so much as taken a look in the mirror? Your very past is an epitaph to what you have buried deep so none can see. You have killed as many, if not more, men as Loki.

“But your hypocrisy extends past yourself and unto others. You attempt to drive me to guilt over loving Loki when your love for Clinton Barton is the same. Both of you were assassins, killing people for your superiors. You ask how I can love Loki; I ask how you can love a man who was to kill you. How many lives has your Clint taken? How can he love you when you have killed so many? Do not patronize me on choices of Loki's or mine when you are no different than the rest of us!”

With that, she shoved past Natasha irritably. She had told Steve that she hated hypocrites, and it was the truth. What right did any of these people have to judge her or anyone else on their choices? She hadn’t intended to hurt the spy that deeply. But her anger was simmering under her control, and she needed an outlet.

Freyr would have been the perfect person to vent to. He had almost always been there for her, in ways only a brother could be. But he was dead. The one member of her family who had supported her, who had listened to everything she had to say, and he was gone forever.

Freyja wandered through the halls until she had reached the more populated area of the Triskelion. The outlet she was looking for came in the form of an empty room she had stumbled on by accident. In her attempt to dodge an agent who couldn't be seen behind the pile of papers he carried, she had ducked through a doorway and found herself exactly where she would have wanted to be.

The room was large, about three times the size of her borrowed chambers in the Avengers Tower, and barren except for the objects which lined the walls on opposite sides. On one end of the room, large foam targets shaped as both circles and people lined the wall in a straight row. The opposite wall was lined with shelves covered in various guns, magazines, bows, and quivers.

She smiled at her luck. Archery was something that had become a bit of a sport on Vanaheim, and was one of the few things Freyja could lose herself in. It was the easy rhythm created that did the trick. Her fingers trailed over the various bows, knowing that none would work just right.

A small incantation slipped through her lips, her palms facing up, as she visualized what she wanted. It appeared as a shimmering mirage at first, before solidifying into reality. The object in her hands was dusty from a millennium of not being so much as touched. _At least it had been there_ , she thought in relief.

It was a bow of silver, created with both decorative and practical uses in mind. Most Vanir weapons were created to work efficiently as well as look appealing to the eye. Attractive and deadly – such was the style of the Vanir. This bow was crafted to look as if it was a multitude of vines wrapping around the curved trunk of a tree. She had treasured it greatly, as she had made it herself, and it carried countless precious memories.

She picked up a random quiver of steel arrows from the shelves and slung it over her shoulder, pulling one out at the same time. She nocked the arrow, drawing the string back until it was barely an inch away from her face. Aiming at the rounded target across from her, she loosed the arrow. It hit the center with a satisfying thud. She nocked two more, one after the other, and let them fly. Each one split through the former with ease.

She jumped at the sound of applause, turning to face the source of the noise. Once more, the first thing she saw was the startling eyes that sent fear spiking through her blood, and she nearly dropped her bow at the sight. But she soon controlled the ridiculous notion as she focused on the rest of his face.

“Sorry if I scared you,” Clint Barton said, walking towards her slowly.

She watched, shocked, as he seemed to slink towards her in the same manner as the man whose eyes he shared. They walked in the same casual sort of swagger as though they had all the time in the world. It was startling how similar and yet, at the same time, so different they were.

“There is no reason to apologize,” she said as politely as she could manage. “I must say, it is not often a person is able to sneak up on me.”

“Do you scare easy, too?”

“I do not understand what you mean.”

He shrugged, picking up a bow, “Never mind, it's nothing.”

“Please, I would rather you address your questions and find the answers from me rather than speculation.”

“Is there a reason you don't like me?”

She hesitated before answering, “I have not decided whether I like you or not. Why ask?”

“You're always welcoming to everyone, everyone except me. You seem to shy away from me, as if you're afraid of something, but I can never tell what. I just want to know why.”

She sighed, lowering her bow, “Forgive me for my disrespect, I did not mean to isolate you. It is my fears that cause the difference in how I behave towards you.”

“You're afraid of me?”

“Not specifically, no,” she laughed. “It is not you that I fear. It is your eyes.”

He raised his eyebrows, “My eyes?”

She laughed again but, this time, she actually sounded amused, “It sounds ridiculous, but allow me to explain. There was a man I knew long ago – although to call him a man is a stretch. He was a bloodthirsty, sadistic monster of a man, and he hunted me down twice in my life. Once, he succeeded in holding me captive for a month, inflicting what tortures pleased him for he, too, wanted answers, but also thirsted for my affections. It has been a little over a millennium since then, but he still haunts me.”

“But what does this guy have to do with me?”

“You and he share the same eyes,” she told him.

“As in we had similar eyes?” he asked as he nocked an arrow.

“As in you have the exact same eyes as he did: the same shape and hue. It is a strange enigma that startles me whenever I see them, for it shouldn’t be possible, but here you are.”

“You know,” he said, allowing the arrow to fly towards the target, “I would never do anything to hurt you. I know I shot your ship down the first day you came, but that wasn't really by choice.”

“Everything is by choice, even if a death threat hangs over your head,” she said solemnly, thinking miserably about the prophecy that influenced her own choices. “But I will not hold it against you. And I trust you, Clint, it is myself I do not trust.” – she stopped to examine his shot – “Steve told me you were an excellent shot. I must say, I am impressed.”

He laughed, “That was nothing. There's not much of a challenge here, though, and I’m pretty sure you could say the same.”

She smiled at that, “Perhaps not. In Vanaheim, we used to celebrate the new century with contests of magic, swordsmanship, and archery. I once had to shoot long range – perhaps nine hundred meters by your measurements – through two sets of metal bars as a challenge.”

Clint gave an appreciative whistle, “How'd you do?”

She loosed an arrow, slicing through his first, “I missed the center by two fingers’ width. I was frustrated for weeks afterwards.”

He couldn’t seem to help the grin he gave her, “Why? That must have been quite a success, just by hitting the target. I mean, the longest bow and arrow shot here was only made three years ago, and only hit about five hundred meters. You’re talking nearly a thousand!”

“I was off by a little under an inch, by your measurements. It bothered me to get so close and yet be so far, it wounded my pride. I got over it eventually.”

“Funny. You don't seem like the type to be prideful.”

“Everyone has some degree of pride, after all, it is a universal characteristic. I have learned that pride can kill, so I try to keep my own in check.”

He nodded, looking at her bow through the corner of his eyes, “That's not one of our bows.”

“It is mine.”

“You didn't have a bow when you came here,” Clint said. “I would know since I helped catalogue your belongings and, if I had seen that beauty, I might have taken it for myself.”

She laughed at that, before explaining, “Magic allows one to teleport relatively small objects from one place to another. I simply used it to bring my bow from Asgard.”

“Is that how Loki was able to make armor appear and disappear whenever he wanted?”

“You mean like this?”

She turned to face him, silver armor shimmering into existence over her jeans and white blouse. When she was finished, she was wearing greaves, a chainmail skirt, a breastplate, vambraces, rerebraces, and a helmet shaped to look like a snarling wolf. All of it was silver and etched with strange, curling knot work and other symbols, with the exception of the helmet.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, taken aback by the magic. “I thought Thor said you were a pacifist.”

“My people were pacifist for religious reasons,” she informed him. “But we were also renowned blacksmiths, creating about half of Asgard's weapons, shields, and armor. It was part of our treaty with Nidavellir, the Realm of the Dwarves. I forged this armor myself in a wager against Thor.”

The armor seemed to fade from view as she spoke, sent back to Asgard, Clint guessed. He didn’t understand how it was possible, magically or otherwise. The last time he had tried to understand alien magic was when Thor and Jane were explaining how an elevator was capable of lifting Mjolnir when most people couldn’t. He had given up any further explanation, except when he was answered with a simple ‘magic’.

“What was the bet?”

“He believed, as I am against violence, that I could not create a weapon or armor that could hold its own against he and his hammer. He lost.”

Clint laughed, “Do you gamble a lot?”

“Only when someone is being particularly ignorant,” Freyja said with a smile.

“Is that often?”

“In Asgard? You have no idea,” she chuckled. “Do not mistake me. I love Asgard and her people, but the Æsir, especially the men, have a terrible habit of underestimating my people. Because we do not fight, they think us incapable. Because we study, they see us as weak. Because we show mercy, they believe us unable to be cruel.”

“That must be helpful, if push comes to shove.”

“Personally, it is a nuisance. Sure, it allows us the element of surprise when necessary, but it opens the door for them to mock us. And, when we do lose our patience, they make us out as the villains. In some ways, your Earth is more progressive than Asgard.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” he told her. “You’ve been here for what? A little over a week? And the files say that it’s been a pretty long time since you were here last. You didn’t see the wars broken out over religion and race, or the everyday prejudice against people just because of who they love. We may have made a lot of progress, but we’ve still got a long way to go.”

“Ah, but that is what I love about humanity,” she said. “No matter how much cruelty you see, there is always a majority who will work for a better future.”

“Didn’t your people do the same?”

She shrugged, “When you live for as long as I have, you tend to be a bit more cynical about things. We wasted our immortality. Humans tend to make the most of their time, regardless of how fleeting.”

“So why don’t you?” he asked. “You’re still alive. Why don’t you make the most of your life?”

“If only it was that easy…”

Her thoughts wandered to the prophecy once more. She had tried so hard not to think of it in the recent days, as it only seemed to grow more and more inescapable. Sure, she passed the running off as trying to keep dangerous knowledge from Thanos, but it was also to keep herself from falling prey to _Renascentia_. The great rebirth. _What a pretty name for something so dark_ , she thought.

Clint was silent as he watched her. Her easy smile and humored expression had slowly fallen, replaced by a solemn mask. He had long since noticed that she used that same expression whenever something was troubling her. She might have been very good at hiding her thoughts, but Clint had learned from the best when it came to reading people, and he could see that something weighed heavy on her mind.

He knew that Fury wanted answers, but he wasn’t an idiot. Clint was not going to force Freyja to give them what they wanted, particularly when Thor had made it very clear that an act against the Vanir was an act against him. And, if forced to choose between S.H.I.E.L.D. and his friend, Clint had no doubt in his mind that Thor would choose Freyja. So he was winning her trust, listening to what she offered him, and was silent when she didn’t want to speak.

After a minute, he couldn’t help but say, “Can I ask you a question? About Loki?”

She sighed, shaking her head almost imperceptibly as if to clear her head, “You may, just choose your words carefully or my next target will not be across the room.”

He looked at her blankly, as if not entirely certain as to whether or not she was joking. It didn’t help that her eyes didn’t waver as she watched him.

She couldn't help but smile at his expression, “That was a joke. I know you laugh here on Earth, so don’t take me as serious at all times.”

“Oh…”

“You may ask me, but I do request that you refrain from judging Loki or myself for you truly know neither of us.”

“Fair enough. Why Loki?”

“You're going to need to be a bit more specific,” she told him.

“Well, I know you asked me not to judge but…he's just sort of…sadistic. He’s done some pretty nasty things while here, and I don’t just mean killing people. What do you see in him?”

“The first question of everyone on Earth, it seems,” she muttered to herself. “I will tell you the same thing I told Steve: he was different then, exactly what I needed at the time. He has harbored so much hatred and grief in his heart since then that it was, I suppose, only a matter of time before someone used such emotions to manipulate him. But do not think for one second that I condone his actions here.”

“Do you feel any different, now that you know what he did?”

“Must I defend my emotions in such a repetitive argument? I'm beginning to wonder whether it would be best simply to gather all of you and give my reasons before each one of you come to me individually and I must repeat myself uncountable times.”

“We probably don't deserve your answers,” Clint admitted. “But I just want to understand.”

“How many has your Natasha killed?”

“She's not  _my_  Natasha,” he answered quickly, the words so common that they might as well have been tattooed on his skin. “And I don't know, anyway.”

“How many have you felled?”

He shrugged, playing off as blasé to keep from showing his own guilt, “I try not to keep count.”

“Is it any different than Loki? Both you and Natasha have killed people, yet you both are companions. You both have been offered second chances.”

He frowned, “What do you mean by 'companions'?”

“You may interpret it in any way that pleases you,” she said dismissively. “Whatever you choose, my point is that actions often do not cause those with close ties to part. You can loathe someone’s past and still love them.”

“Hmm…Never thought of it like that…”

“Not many do until it is pointed out to them.”

“So, I heard you're planning on leaving Earth soon.”

“I refuse to stay and jeopardize the lives of your people. I would rather die than see another realm lost.”

It was a half-truth, but she wasn’t going to divulge her people’s most protected secrets.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “I wouldn't enjoy seeing the extinction of humans, either.”

She laughed, “I suppose not.”

“I hate to dredge up old memories, but Thor said you saw your home destroyed before your eyes.”

When she spoke, the words were stiff and forced, “Your point?”

“What was it like?”

She pulled the bowstring further than she usually would have, taking out her grief on it as she forced her voice to remain steady, “Excrutiating.”

And she let it go.

* * *

Freyja laid out the folded clothes that she had decided to take with her on the bed. She had decided she would leave the majority of Pepper's clothes, as she probably wouldn't return to Earth within the next century and who knew what would be inconspicuous at that point. One Midgardian outfit was enough, just in case she decided to drop in for a brief stay again. She would leave a few silver coins, from Alfheim, for everything Tony had given her.

She then shrugged off the jeans and blouse she wore and slid back into the ragged green tunic and leather pants. Silver coils of her energy wrapped around the outfit, restoring it to what it had once been. The colors were no longer pale and dull, the tears had vanished, but she knew she would never recover her fur-lined coat. Restoring color was simple, almost a parlor trick. But she could not restore something which had once been alive. She would have to buy a new one, just in case she went wandering through Jotunheim to throw off Thanos.

She then placed her personal belongings on the mattress as well, pulling the briefcase out from under the bed. Placing everything inside strategically, she created a six-inch space in the exact center of it. She could not leave the Tesseract in the hands of Odin. Not only did she not trust him, but it was her responsibility, not the Æsir’s. And it would give Thanos less of a reason to attack Asgard. Uttering a spell, she found the Tesseract in her hands within two seconds.

A gasp escaped her lips as she held it, the power reaching out to her as it recognized the same energy in her, sending her memories of that she could only vaguely remember. It always reacted in such a way when she held it, as though the energy within possessed enough sentience to primitively interact with her. Her people had never been able to explain the phenomenon. Instinctively, she knew she would never fully understand its capabilities.

As for the moment, she allowed it to whisk her away, knowing it would end sooner if she didn’t fight against it.

_She was in the Infirmary of Caelum, the capitol city of Vanaheim. All of the cots were empty except for one, which held the thin body of a newborn Vanir, her aura tinged grey with a sickness Freyja could not name. The baby was decidedly not full Vanir as the shade of blue was too light, the hair silver beneath a hastily done concealment spell, the ears were slightly pointed near the top._

_Across from the cot, her father stood speaking with the Healers._

_“There is nothing that can be done for the child?” he demanded._

_“My King,” one of the Healers answered, “with all due respect, you brought us a babe who is already on Death's threshold. Had you brought her to us sooner, there might be an answer. But this is beyond our knowledge, and there may not be sufficient time to find a cure.”_

_“There must be some spell, some incantation, which will bring her back.”_

“ _No one can be brought back from the dead, my King. You know this. Maybe it would help if you told us where you found her.”_

_“I answered already: her mother had died during birth, leaving her with a woman who did not know how to care for her.”_

_“But that is not a location.”_

_Another of the Healers examined the baby while they spoke, “Your majesty, why does the babe bear the mark of the royal bloodline?”_

_Everyone crowded around then as the Healer gently opened one of the baby's eyes, revealing brown eyes that were definitely not a trait of the Vanir, and Freyja watched as her father remained where he stood. Around the baby’s pupil was a ring of gold, the sign of the Vanaheim royal family.”_

_“She is you child?” hissed the third Healer. “My King, what have you done?”_

_“Who was her mother?” the first asked. “No one of our people, as her traits are not all our own.”_

_“It matters not who her mother is,” her father snapped. “And you will speak not a word of this to anyone.”_

_“If you are desperate to save her,” the second Healer pointed out, “we could always use the Tesseract.”_

_“The Tesseract?” her father repeated. “What do you know of it?”_

_“We know it has enough energy to sustain many lives, and possibly to power a spell which could alter the laws of space-time. It may save your daughter's life.”_

_“Then do so,” Njord said dismissively. “Do what you must. Call for me when you have finished.”_

Freyja pulled herself out of the memory, knowing exactly what it was. Not long after she had learned her mother was not Queen Van, she had found that she had been born gravely ill. Her father had taken her back to Vanaheim to save her but, given the uncertainty of her illness, there was only one thing they could do. There was a reason why she was so powerful. There was a reason her eyes, once brown and gold, were now so bright a blue.

She placed the Tesseract in the space that she had left empty and shut the briefcase. Though it was not ideal, she felt it was safer with her. If something ever arose, because she knew better than to believe that Asgard might remain entirely peaceful, she could rest assured that Odin would not deign to use it.

“Going somewhere, are we?”

The sound of Tony's voice made her jump in surprise. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching her carefully with a drink in his hand. She knew he had not been there until she had shut the briefcase, and so hadn't seen anything, a fact which allowed her to relax just a fraction. All he could have seen were the scattered clothes on her bed and her packed bag.

“I thought Fury said you weren't allowed to leave,” he pointed out.

“Fury does not own me, nor can he instruct me on what to do.”

“So, how are you planning to escape?”

“I will take my jet from the base and leave for wherever the winds take me.”

He stopped mid-sip, “Problem.”

“Solution,” she answered sarcastically.

“How are you going to get past all of the agents and then get out, too?”

She laughed, “I am a sorceress, Tony. I believe making myself invisible is on my list of abilities. Besides, I have spent my life evading my enemies, many of whom possess magic, so I believe myself capable of outwitting a handful of agents.”

“It would be stupid to try to escape alone.”

“I will not drag anyone else into this. This is my cross to bear, as you humans say.”

“Ever think about burning that cross to the ground?”

“Never realistically,” Freyja admitted.

“Shame,” he said. “You could do so much if you would stop running.”

“I will not put the Nine Realms in danger simply because I wish for some form of peace.”

“Ask yourself something,” Tony challenged, stepping into the room. “Will it kill you to stay for a couple more days, just to make a better plan?”

“I suppose not…”

“Right. Even Star-Spangled Spandex will tell you that you need a better plan.”

“Who?”                        

“Steve. What is it about him, by the way, that gets you talking?”

“He reminds me of someone I once knew and, when I speak, he understands.”

“Hmm,” he muttered, thinking about that for a second. “So, is it settled?”

“Three more days, at most,” she sighed. “Then I will leave, one way or another.”

Tony grinned broadly at that, “Deal.”


	16. Chapter 15: Forgotten Recollections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freyja finally meets the infamous Ms. Potts, Tony gets a lesson in alien biology, and a going away party is thrown.

_“Pick the day. Enjoy it - to the hilt. The day as it comes. People as they come... The past, I think, has helped me appreciate the present - and I don't want to spoil any of it by fretting about the future.”_

–Audrey Hepburn

* * *

 

Freyja stood in the elevator, waiting for it to reach the penthouse suites. She couldn't help thinking about the strange feeling she had gotten when she woke up. Something had seemed different, not anything major that could be specifically described, but definitely something off. On top of that, the night itself had been strange.

Not a single unpleasant memory had haunted her in the night. It was what threw her off the most, despite allowing her to feel more rested than she had in centuries. She usually relived two or three memories a night, so it wasn’t improbable for her to have a few happy recollections, but not an entire night of fond happenings between herself and the people she considered her family. It reminded her dauntingly of the calm before a tempest.

Regardless of the odd night, or perhaps because of it, she had spent the day out to enjoy what she knew to be her one of her last few days on Midgard. She had decided she would still leave by her ship, which Tony had informed her had been repaired by the S.H.I.E.L.D. mechanics in order to better study it. They were trying to learn from the designs and she loathed to cut progress of any kind short, but she had higher priorities, and making sure Thanos did not come to the planet was high on that list.

The elevator doors slid open with a swoosh, pulling her from her thoughts, and Freyja walked out. She stopped short as a woman came gliding down the hall that led to Tony's rooms. She watched the woman curiously, trying to guess who she might be. As the woman came to a halt at the sight of Freyja, the Vanir could better inspect her shoulder-length orange-blonde hair and grey eyes. She smiled, a name coming to mind.

“You must be the famous Miss Potts I've been hearing about,” she said.

Pepper smiled as she remembered Tony’s guest, “And you're Freyja, right?”

“You are correct.”

Pepper smiled in return, “I heard you and Tony got into a little spat while I was gone. I hope Tony didn’t cause you too much distress.”

“Oh, I'm fine,” she answered, smirking. “I seem to have rather intimidated him into affability.”

“Alright, then. I know how Tony can get…”

“It's perfectly alright. I knew beforehand what I was getting into.”

“Mm-hmm,” Pepper trailed off for a second. “So, you're the goddess of love? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I don’t mind in the slightest,” Freyja told her. “To the Norse people, I was the patron goddess of love – and also of beauty and magic – but I wouldn't say that I am a goddess in the sense of a deity.”

“I thought Asgardians and Vanir were gods.”

Freyja shook her head, “The Æsir believe themselves to be gods, a product of their own egos, but my people believed us to be no more than another species. You have your strengths, and we have ours.”

“Oh. I heard that you were the goddess the Norse prayed to for romantic problems…”

Freyja gave a sharp laugh, “Oh, they did. They prayed to me because, while Asgard is full of patrons of war, my people were patrons of love, family, spirituality, sexuality, and fertility. I don’t know why they thought I could provide wisdom when my own romantic endeavors tend to end disastrously.”

“You had a lot of relationship before Loki?”

Freyja looked up, startled, “Tony told you that, did he?”

Pepper nodded, “But Steve explained some things to me after. I won’t it against you; no one can control who they fall in love with, after all.”

She smiled, feeling relieved at Pepper’s blasé demeanor towards the subject, “Indeed. But, in answer of your question, yes. I had many relationships in my youth. However, I was never in love until I returned to Asgard, and even then I almost mistook it for platonic love.”

“The god of mischief with the goddess of love,” the woman mused. “What was that like?”

“Exhilarating, there are no two days alike. He presents a new adventure every time the sun rises.”

“Was he sweet? Before he…”

“Before he emotionally snapped and was tortured and manipulated by the Chitauri’s leader?” Freyja finished, continuing as Pepper’s eyes widened. “Loki has not yet told Thor, though I suspect he knows and just has not told his companions, out of respect for his brother’s privacy. Though he may not always seem it, Thor is much more intelligent and perceptive than he pretends to be.”

Pepper smiled at that, as she had always expected as much, and watched as Freyja’s expression changed as she answered the initial question. There was a sort of fondness in her eyes as she spoke.

“Loki can be exceptionally romantic – more romantic than myself, if I am honest – and he was absolutely delightful with his children.”

“Loki has children? So the myths are true?”

“In many ways, yes, and it is true that he has three children. The twins, Fenrir and Jormungand, and his daughter, Hela. They're gems, all of them, although Jormungand is as much of a trouble-maker as his father.”

“Isn't Jormungand a serpent and Fenrir a wolf?”

Freyja couldn’t help but laugh at Pepper’s hesitant confusion, “Of course not. Jormungand is quick and cunning and, consequently, was sometimes referred to as a serpent among the Æsir, and Fenrir is withdrawn and fiercely protective of those he loves, earning him the nickname of the Wolf. Perhaps your people have mistranslated our stories.”

“So Hela isn't half-dead?”

“Well, that is due to an unfortunate complication during the pregnancy,” Freyja admitted. “Although, she is not half-dead so much as she is malformed. But she's such a sweet girl, despite how people often judged her on her appearance. She had this innate ability to see past peoples’ defenses, which I believe made them uncomfortable around her, on top of how she looked.”

As she had spoken, Freyja had walked around the bare that separated the kitchen from the actual living room area. It was already evening and she was starting to feel a bit hungry. However, when she opened the fridge to find it almost bare, she gave a small scowl.

“Does he ever eat here? It seems I always find this container empty.”

“You mean the fridge? Yeah, the only thing he keeps in there is champagne and occasionally leftover pizza.”

She shook her head at the sight, “Has he always been so accustomed to drink?”

“He’s got a high tolerance.”

“I thought as much,” Freyja said, closing the fridge. “Oh, and forgive me if Tony gives you any trouble about his suit.”

Pepper looked confused at that, “Why would he give me trouble about his suit?”

Freyja grinned, “The less you know of it, the better. I would also be grateful if you would not tell him I spoke to you of it.”

“Okay, then,” Pepper said, deciding that it was probably better not to dig too deeply into it. “I should probably get going. I’ve got a meeting with the board in an hour and a flight to catch.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Freyja said, watching as Pepper stepped into the elevator.

“You, too,” and the elevator door closed.

“So, what exactly is wrong with my suit? I haven’t seen it today, but should I be worried?”

She looked up to see Tony walking in, black hair slightly disheveled. He wore a Black Sabbath T-shirt and jeans that were oil-stained and torn in places. It was obvious that he had spent the day in his lab/garage, the signs of which Freyja had long since learned to recognize, but didn’t seem to be tired.

“Exactly how long have you been eavesdropping?” she asked.

“Since you said something about no two days with Loki are the same,” he answered with a shrug. “Let me ask you a few questions that have been bothering me.”

“So long as they are not offensive,” she answered.

“Norse mythology says that Loki was married to Angrboda, then to Sigyn, but never anything about your relationship with Loki. In fact, it actually kind of makes it seem like you two hated each other. How does that fit into what you’ve told us?”

“Your people seem to have stretched the truth greatly,” Freyja said with a sharp laugh. “Loki was indeed married to Angrboda, but their marriage was short-lived as she died giving birth to their daughter, Hela. They were married for a total of two years, both of which took place during my pilgrimage through the Realms. In his grief after Angrboda’s death, he became Sigyn's lover for a time but found she made his pain worse. Despite their many nights spent together, they never married. But she grew attached, and made it obvious she wished to marry him. In fact, she was the one who often spread lies about her relationship to Loki.”

He gave a low whistle as a response, “And how do you know all this if you weren’t there for any of it?”

“Loki may be considered to be the god of lies, but he has never hidden anything from me that he thought I should know.”

“Okay. Next question: was it ever uncomfortable dating Loki when he already had three children?”

“Of course not. I loved his children as though they were my own.”

“Uh-huh. Here's my last question: did you know that Loki supposedly sired a horse, as a mare?”

She raised her eyebrows, “That is hardly possible. Loki was always one for trouble, but what you speak of is not his type of chaos. He may have enjoyed shape-shifting, but changing genders is completely different, especially for those not of Vanaheim. Full gender transmutation, on top of species metamorphosis, is extremely difficult for sorcerers of other Realms and is rarely completed.

“It is different for my kind. The way my people are born cannot quite be comprehended by those physically limited to binary sexes, and grow up to exist in a constant state of flux, allowing us to change between the genders and species with ease. For example: if Loki and I were to take on the form of Thor, Loki would simply take on a visual illusion over his own skin while I would take on the physical appearance of Thor and alter my DNA just enough to match that of an Asgardian man. You would be able to tell the difference in Loki’s, for you would feel through the illusion, but I would be entirely identical to Thor unless you examined my aura or my genes.”

Tony gave a short laugh, trying to process all of the possibilities she had revealed with her explanation, “So Loki could – what, bend light around his body – while you can alter your actual body on a genetic level, to some extent, essentially making you a man?”

“That would be the simple answer, yes.”

“So would that make you a man or a woman?” he asked, grimacing as he realized how terrible that sounded. “Never mind, you don’t have to answer that.”

“I do not mind,” she told him with a shrug. “I am both…or maybe neither. We had no true concept of gender. I believe the closest term you have to what I am is ‘genderfluid’. I simply prefer to present myself as a woman. That does not, however, mean that I’m uncomfortable as a man.”

“Huh. Did you ever spend any time in Asgard in the form of a man? I bet that would have thrown them for a loop.”

She laughed at that, telling him, “Before I left on my pilgrimage, I spent two years as a young man. It scandalized many of the Diar, Odin’s court. You see, although the changing of one’s gender is not too uncommon in Asgard, it is often done early in one’s life and done quietly. My choice to change so quickly and publicly just wasn’t done.”

The doors to the elevator slid open before Tony could reply, revealing a surprisingly well-rested Bruce. He stared at the two, Freyja smiling widely and Tony looking thoroughly amused, and wondered silently when they had decided to be friendly towards each other. Bruce raised his eyebrows.

“Do I want to know what's going on here?” he asked, tentatively. “Or if I should be preparing for doomsday?

“Just a discussion of alien physiology and gender,” Freyja answered dismissively. “Hardly anything which marks the end of time. Was Tony expecting you?”

He held up his phone, “He _did_ text me.”

“Yes, we're going out to have a goodbye party for Freyja,” Tony explained, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

She turned to him, shocked, “We are?”

“Yep, my treat.”

“Just the three of us?” Bruce asked.

“Well, I do have a few other people coming,” Tony answered, turning quickly to look at Freyja. “Robin Hood said he's actually gotten on your good side. Is that true?”

“Robin Hood?” she asked.

“I think he means Clint,” Bruce answered. “Fitting nickname, since he just bought his whole apartment complex so his neighbors could keep their homes.”

“Did he?” Freyja asked. “That was very generous. But, yes, we settled a few things not too long ago. I'm afraid Natasha and I, however, have yet to see eye-to-eye.”

“Oh, well. If we’re all together, she’ll be civil,” Tony reasoned. “And Thor can invite Jane. Pepper can’t make it…Think you can handle five men with only two women?”

Freyja grinned at the challenge, “I'm sure I can manage. After all, my particular group of friends consisted of five men and two women, if you include myself.”

“Wait,” Bruce spoke up. “We're throwing a going away party with just Clint, Natasha, Steve, Thor, Jane, and us?”

“Well, who else would we invite? Freyja doesn’t really know anyone else. Rhodey’s in D.C. on some ‘classified’ business. Jane’s intern is visiting her family, Selvig’s taken a hiatus after S.H.I.E.L.D. dragged him in.”

Bruce gave a shrug of grudging agreement, but said nothing in reply.

“Where are we going?” Freyja asked, curious as to what Tony's plans were.

“A club called the Kiss and Fly. Now, come on. We have a night to waste!”

He wrapped one arm around Freyja's waist, draping the other around Bruce's shoulders, and pulled them into the elevator. He pushed the button for the lobby with the hand he had resting courteously on Freyja's waist, allowing her to put a little space between him and herself. He gave her a look of mock offense at the gesture. But he made no move to bring her closer, earning him a grateful smile from Freyja and a look of surprise from Bruce.

“So, you're leaving soon?” Bruce asked, tearing his eyes away from Tony to look at Freyja.

“On the morrow, most likely.”

“And yet she has no idea where she's going, do you?” Tony pointed out.

“Actually, I have half a mind to go to Svartalfheim and have Thanos trail after me through the arid wastelands, just as recompense for the destruction he has caused.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, “Svartalfheim’s a wasteland, right? Why not confront him there, away from civilization, and end it all.”

She frowned at his words. _Because I’m afraid of dying_ , a voice in her head said venomously. Instead of voicing that thought, she offered him a wan smile, but it came out rather like a grimace.

“If only it were that simple.”

Bruce and Tony exchanged a glance at her words, but neither could exactly make sense of her unreadable tone. It was clear that she was hiding something, much like when they had breakfast when she first arrived, but could not seem to draw the secret from her. And Tony wasn’t willing to dig too far after the whole Loki debacle. Before either of them could say anything on the matter, Freyja’s entire demeanor changed to one of pleasant amusement.

“Tell me, Tony, should I expect liquor in this little party of yours?”

Tony scoffed at that, forgetting her secrets for the moment, “What is a party if you don’t drink a little? Just because your body doesn’t process alcohol the same way doesn’t mean you can’t have a few beers.”

“I’ll tell you if he tries to give you something you can’t handle,” Bruce stage-whispered.

Tony only gave them a scoff and an eye-roll in reply.

* * *

Loud synthpop blared within the walls of the club, the bass reverberating through the floor like a strange heartbeat. The room was painted different hues of blue, pink, purple, and green by the lights that randomly flashed throughout the place. Tony, Bruce, Freyja, Clint, Thor, Jane, and Steve sat at a round booth, laughing over theirs drinks. Natasha had declined, claiming that she had an undercover op to prepare for. Clint had vouched for her.

Freyja had found that Jane wasn’t one for parties, either, and the two had quickly started a conversation regarding Freyja’s culture and how her people had acclimated to that of the Æsir. After Tony interrupted the two, saying that they were there for a party and not research, all talk of sociology changed to old stories.

“I have one for you, but Thor's not going to enjoy it,” Freyja said with a grin. “And I assure you that none of you have heard it from our perspective before.”

Thor looked up suddenly, pointing his finger at her in warning, “This had better not be what I believe it is.”

She laughed, “Oh, calm yourself. It's no more than a good laugh.”

“What is it?” Tony asked.

“Well, Thor's hammer, Mjolnir, is something of legend for the Nine Realms. Many have coveted it from afar, including a Jötunn named Thrym. Now, there has been many a morning when Thor woke up to find that Loki has hidden Mjolnir during the night. You see, Mjolnir was a gift from Loki through a bet he had with the Dwarven brothers Brokk and Sindri. He had bet his head that they could not forge items more beautiful than those of Ivaldi, who were the royal smiths at the time.”

Clint choked on his beer, clearing his throat enough to ask, “He bet his _head_.”

She nodded, “Loki had a nasty habit in his youth of speaking without thinking. I believe it might be a genetic trait among those of Asgard.”

“Oh, do not bring that up. Continue the story,” Thor laughed.

“Well, even though Loki had been instrumental in the creation of the hammer, Thor often behaved as though he alone had a right to it. So Loki made a point of hiding it whenever Thor was being particularly rude. However, at this point, it was the second consecutive day in which Mjolnir had gone missing and Thor was absolutely furious. He had gone immediately to his brother and demanded he return it. Loki, who had not touched the hammer since the day before, argued that he had not taken it and that Thor would not be able to find it if it lay at the foot of his bed.

“I ran into the two arguing and asked what was going on. They explained the situation, not excluding their personal bias, and I convinced Thor that Loki was not lying. I offered Loki my cloak, which allows instant short-distance travel to the wearer, so long as one has the strength to do so. He used it to search the Nine Realms for Mjolnir, as he knew that something was amiss.

“It was on these travels that he came across Thrym, who bragged to his whole village that he had stolen and hidden Mjolnir. He told Loki that no one would find it unless I was brought to him to be his wife. Loki returned to Asgard and told Thor, who immediately made his way to my chambers.

“It was late in the night and I was about to retire for the day when Thor knocked on my door. As soon as I opened it, he told me – quite enthusiastically, too, I might add – to  dress in a wedding gown and veil and to get ready to go to Jötunheim with him. I was not in the best of moods to begin with seeing as I was exhausted from a long day and Thor's casual demands insulted me, to say the least. I was, after all, not a prize to give away at whim. For days after, the servants swore that my shouting could be heard throughout the city and the slamming of my door shook the very castle.

“I was called for a meeting with Odin, not much later, to discuss with the other gods how to retrieve Mjolnir. During the argument, I jested that since Thor was Niflheim-bent on my going to Jotunheim, he should dress as me and take back his hammer himself. Loki agreed that it was a good plan, and I added that Loki could go as a bridesmaid.

“Now it was Loki and Thor arguing against the rest of us who all thought it was a brilliant idea, although it was more for just seeing the Princes dressed as women for a wedding. It was decided and I helped dress Thor in a bridal gown and veil along with Loki. We shaved Thor's beard and covered his head in a fairly sheer. Loki was a tad bit simpler to dress.”

“So you two dressed in drag?” Tony laughed.

“It was for the good of the Realm,” Thor protested.

“Actually, Loki transformed himself into a woman for the occasion,” Freyja told them. “I chose to accompany them in the form of a Vanir servant, which is always less intimidating than an Asgardian Einherjar. Since we are not invulnerable like the Æsir, we agreed that Thrym would not object to a man accompanying two women – and it was less suspicious that sending two or even three women alone.”

“Wait, but how did- what did you do for-” Steve stumbled over his words, gesturing towards his chest.

Freyja laughed, immediately understanding what he meant, “That was a fairly difficult part in dressing Thor. We used multiple layers of cloth to mimic breasts, as there is no spell for such a thing and it is incredibly taxing to use magic to transform people other than one’s self.

“So, there we were, sitting in Thrym's hall over a meal as we discuss how the wedding and the return of Mjolnir should take place. While Loki and I worked out the details with Thrym, Thor decided it was as good a time as any to gorge himself on the food and mead. Loki, as silver-tongued as ever, explained the reason for 'her' appetite was that my people have just finished a week long fasting ritual we perform every century. This quelled Thrym's surprise until he announced that it was time to retire and, before we knew it, he had pulled back Thor's veil and was kissing him on the lips.”

The giggles that had been suppressed earlier now broke out into laughter as no one could keep silent. Thor had turned red in the face, turning to Jane as though for comfort. But the astrophysicist was barely hiding her laughs, her hand hiding the smile on her lips, and he mumbled something unintelligible in Old Norse.

“Before Loki and I could respond,” Freyja continued. “Thor balled his fist and knocked Thrym nearly twenty feet across the floor. The guards' faces were priceless at the sight of their master sprawled across the floor, looking dazed. Thor, who had suffered through enough of the charade at that point, demanded that Thrym return Mjolnir immediately. Within seconds, we were battling our way through the entire house of Jötunns.”

“I thought you said you're a pacifist,” Tony pointed out.

She rolled her eyes, “I may be a pacifist by nature, but I am capable of defending myself. I choose not to start fights, but I cannot avoid all of them. Particularly as I am friends with Thor.”

“So, what happened?” Jane asked, looking at Thor and Freyja expectantly. “How’d you escape?”

He smiled, speaking when Freyja motioned for him to finish it, “Well, Loki, Freyja, and I were quite a team back then. I with Mjolnir and Loki and Freyja with magic; we were unstoppable when together. Freyja would keep up the defenses, creating shields and the like to protect any attacks we did not see, while Loki distracted the enemies with projections of himself and I did the real fighting.”

“Oh, please,” Freyja scoffed, though her tone remained genial. “You did nothing but hit a few Jötunns over the head with Mjolnir. Just admit it, if Loki and I had not been there, you would have never gotten out in one piece.”

“Regardless,” Thor said loudly. “We managed to fight our way out of the hall and call for Heimdall to open the Bifrost to us. After such a close call, we found ourselves so shocked, we could do naught but laugh at the whole ordeal.”

“Thor and Loki dressed as women,” Clint laughed. “Now that’s something I’d pay to see.”

“You hardly need to pay,” Freyja told him, gesturing for him to lean closer.

He did as she wished, knowing he could trust her, and didn’t so much as flinch as she pressed to fingers to his temple. As she projected the image into his mind, he reeled back with a snort of laughter.

“Loki makes a half-decent woman,” he joked, taking a long draw from his beer.

“I rather think so,” Freyja commented, earning a few amused looks. “I rather like Loki as a woman. A shame it’s only an illusion – the things we could do…”

Clint did all he could to keep from spitting out his beer, standing up with a shake of his head and a smirk, “Okay, I’m going to need something stronger than Guinness if you’re going to talk like that.”

Freyja laughed as they watched Clint walk off towards the bar. As he did, Thor offered Jane his hand and whisked her off into the crowd of dancing people. Freyja smiled as she watched them go.

“I'm glad he has finally found a woman who he can settle down with,” she remarked. “It is strange, though, to see him for once with the same woman for more than a night.”

“Do you think it will work out, though?” Bruce asked. “With him being immortal?”

“Technically, the Æsir are not truly immortal. They partake of Idunn’s apples, which grant them immortality for a century at a time. It is my people alone who have true immortality,” she explained. “However, I believe it will work in the end. Jane can be granted access to the apples if she succeeds in the challenge Odin will set before her. If she cannot, all Thor must do is refuse to partake of the apples. At this point in his life, if he does not have anymore, he will age just as quickly as any mortal would. Thor would be happy either way. I do feel sorry for Sif, however…”

“Sif?” Tony asked.

“A warrior maiden who we both count as a friend,” Freyja said. “She has always been…fond of Thor.”

“Oh,” Bruce muttered, voicing the thought on everyone’s mind.

The table was silent for a minute, thinking over what Freyja had said. Even she watched, albeit more happily, as Thor and Jane danced. Though she felt sorry for her friend, Freyja could not feel anger towards Thor when he looked at Jane the way he was then. She could see that he loved her dearly. It made her heart ache, as they reminded her of what she could not have.

“Freyja?”

Steve’s voice shattered her thoughts instantly, and she turned to look at the super soldier.

“Would you mind if I stole a dance from you, seeing as this is your last night here?”

She looked at him in surprise, “I do not know how to dance to this music…”

He shrugged, “Neither do I.”

She thought about it for a second, then decided it was a harmless request and stood up. As they got up from the table, she could hear Tony muttering something almost lewd, and the sound of Bruce ramming his elbow into the genius’s ribs. Steve must have also heard it, as his neck and ears turned a bright shade of red. But she gave him a smile and a good-natured roll of her eyes to show that she didn’t pay any mind to Tony’s comments.

Steve, she found, was very awkward and highly self-conscious, putting too much thought into the smallest thing. He turned her towards him, placing his free hand on her waist. A look of uncertainty crossed his face and he moved his hand to her lower back. Another moment of hesitation and he moved his hand up to her mid-back. She smiled as he sent her a questioning look, placing her hand over his and guiding it back to her waist.

“This is fine, Steve,” she told him.

“Would you laugh if I told you I've never actually danced before?”

“Of course not.”

He nodded, leading her into a slow dance that didn't match what was currently playing through the club. To help them both, Freyja thought of one of the many songs she had heard the last time she had been to the Realm, a slow number which matched their current tempo, and projected it to the very surface of his psyche. In that way, he would be able to hear the music without her needed to delve any deeper into his mind. He raised an eyebrow at the gesture.

“What if I told you I've only danced this way once before,” she told him, not bothering to answer his unspoken question. “And it was when Loki taught me how they dance in Asgard’s courts?”

He smiled at that, “I'd say we're pretty much on the same page, then.”

He accidentally stepped on her foot within the next minute. A horrified look crossed his face, but she only smiled at him.

“Do you think I will be livid over one misstep? Relax, and you will find it easier.”

“There's actually something I wanted to ask you…” he started, looking down at his feet. “But I thought it may be better to ask you where no one can hear.”

Her smile faltered, not quite liking the way he said it, “Go ahead.”

“Well, Tony said-”

And now it was gone completely, “Nothing good comes from any sentence that begins with 'Tony said'.”

“It's just…It seems like you only really talk to me, I'm the only one you give straight answers to.”

“Not quite. I’ve given Clint, Bruce, and Jane straight answers.”

“Yes, but did you tell them anything about Loki or yourself.”

“Vague details,” she conceded.

“Exactly. The others wonder why you trust me more than anyone else. Thor says it's because you see something in me, but Tony thinks it's because…”

“Because?”

“Because you…like me.”

She frowned in confusion at that, “Why would I not like you?”

“No, as in,” he took a deep breath, looking extremely flustered. “Hethinksyou'vegottenoverLokiandlikemeinstead.”

Freyja was silent, trying to process what he had stuttered out, “I didn't catch a word of that…”

He sighed, “Tony thinks you’re no longer in love with Loki, and that you talk to me because you – that you've fallen for me, instead.”

Her face turned into a hollow mask as it did when someone overstepped her boundaries. But Steve hadn’t crossed any lines, just caught her by surprise, and she didn’t want to give away anything she might have been thinking. Inside, her thoughts were scrambling madly around in her head.

“Have you fallen for me?” he asked cautiously.

She sighed, hoping fervently  _he_  hadn't fallen for  _her_ , “There is no easy way to say this…Tony is wrong. I trust you more, not because I prize you as more than a friend, but because you remind me of my brother.”

“Oh,” he said, his entire posture relaxing.

“My brother, Freyr, was the only true family I had, the only blood-relative who actively cared. Well, I take that back; I had an aunt and a cousin on my mother’s side, but they had thought I died as a babe. But that is neither here nor there. Freyr looked out for me in ways no one else ever had, and always listened whenever something troubled me. Sometimes you speak, and I know it is something he would have said. You are like him in many ways and I find myself comforted that there is someone here who listens now that he no longer can.”

“So, Thor was right.”

“Yes. You'll find, despite his own beliefs, Tony can be wrong quite often. Is that all that was bothering you?”

He nodded, smiling sheepishly, “It was kind of silly, come to think of it. You really have a lot of faith in Loki.”

She smiled in return, enjoying how the topic had turned light once more. Her smile disappeared, however, when something just past Steve caught her eye. In the middle of the crowds of people dancing to the beat, she could see a figure which stood still as stone, watching her. Her eyes traveled up the long, lean form she knew so well until they met with emerald eyes full of sadness and a pang of jealousy.

It was Loki, in the middle of a night club, wearing a Midgardian suit, watching her intently. He still looked a bit gaunt but, with his well-tailored suit and his hair slicked back from his face, he looked presentable. A gold and green scarf hung loosely around his neck, tying in his colors along with the black suit. His face was a mixture of pain, longing, and a little envy. He sent her a questioning glance before turning around and walking away.

Freyja let go of Steve, rushing towards the direction Loki had disappeared to. It was easier to run in the jeans she wore than it would have been in any Asgardian gown, but the crowd hindered her progress. She pushed her way past people, desperate to find him, until she reached the door. She walked out, looking for any sign of him. Nothing. He had vanished into thin air. Perhaps he had was never there to begin with.

Steve rushed out a second later, coming to stand just behind her.

“Freyja, what is it? You just stopped – looked like you saw a ghost – and ran out. Did you see something?” he asked, his tone concerned as he scanned there surroundings.

She was silent for a second, wondering if she truly had seen Loki or if it had just been her imagination. She glanced around one last time before turning to face Steve.

“I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I thought I saw something, but I was wrong.”

He sighed in relief, “Okay, you had me worried for a second. Come on, let's go find the others.”

She allowed Steve to lead her back in, still asking herself what exactly she had seen.


	17. Chapter 16: Undisclosed Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a late night stroll, Freyja confides in Steve. And a rather jealous guest finds his way into her room.

_“I know that we are not the weight of all our memories…And I believe that the darkness reminds us where light can be.”_

-Christina Perri

* * *

 

Steve and Freyja slowly made their way through the crowds back to the booth where they had been sitting. When they finally pushed their way through the last of the crowds, they found the table empty. The only sign that there was once a group there was the few empty glasses and bottles. Steve and Freyja scanned the crowd, looking for a sign that their friends had not actually left them, but neither could see anyone familiar in the ever-shifting crowds.

“And they deem it appropriate to leave us behind,” Freyja sighed. “No doubt Tony is drunk, Thor likely snuck away with Jane, Bruce is helping Tony, and Clint has left to check in with Fury or Natasha.”

Steve shook his head, a wry smile on his face “Very considerate of them.”

Freyja smiled in return, “Nevertheless, I will have to thank them. Tonight was the best I've had in centuries.”

“You don't know just how strange that sounds…”

She laughed, “I'm sure a great deal of what I say sounds strange to you.”

“So,” he said, looking around. “Since everyone has been so thoughtful as to leave us here, do you mind if I walk you to the Tower? Rather than flagging down a cab, I mean.”

“Not at all,” she answered as they walked back to the door.

“So what are you going to do after tonight? You're really leaving?”

“I have no other acceptable choice,” she said with a shrug. “I will go as far away as I can, stay a few days, and travel away once more.”

“Is this because of that person you mentioned?” Steve asked. “Thanos?”

“…Yes.”

“What does he hold over you to make you do this?”

“I wish I could tell you,” she murmured quietly.

“And this is what you plan to do for the rest of eternity? You're going to keep running until the end of time?”

She shrugged, “There is nothing else I  _can_  do. There is no destroying the Tesseract and, even if it were possible, the action would kill me as well and leave Thanos to take out his rage elsewhere. I could lure Thanos into a trap, but it would never hold him for very long. I suppose I could kill Thanos, but would require going against everything that I have ever believed in. I know that sounds selfish but, if it really comes to that, I’m not sure I could kill him. I fear I am not strong enough.”

“Being able to kill someone isn’t strength, Freyja,” he told her, a solemn edge to his voice. “It’s living with yourself afterwards.”

Freyja shook her head, her thoughts going back to a little Dwarven town she had visited long ago, “You know, a Dwarf once told me something very similar.”

“He sounds like a very wise Dwarf,” Steve said, stifling a scoff at how ridiculous he sounded.

“He was…”

Steve didn’t mention how she spoke in past tense, realizing what that meant for her friend. It suddenly struck him as to why she had been so adamant about leaving Earth quickly. He wondered how many others she had watched die because of what she was protecting, because of what her father had saddled her with.

“What kind of father drops that much responsibility on his daughter?” he mused aloud.

“A poor one, but a father, nonetheless,” she answered. “I did, however, happen to know a man who was more of a father to me.”

His eyes snapped to hers, but she was looking up at the skyscrapers around him, “You mean Thor's father?”

There was no humor in her eyes as she laughed, “No, Odin is too much like Njord for my liking. His name was Algrim, the last of a race known as the Dark Elves.”

He frowned at that, “How many races have gone extinct?”

“Within the Nine Realms, only the Dark Elves. But I fear, with the few Vanir who still live, that my people will meet the same fate in the near future.”

“What were the Dark Elves?”

Steve felt a bit ashamed at his lack of knowledge on the topic, but Freyja didn't seem to mind, especially given that it got her mind off the topic of her people. She explained everything anyway, not caring that he didn’t know everything about the Realms.

“The Elves were the closest species to my own, divided into sister races of dark and light, with the Dark Elves sharing a similar appearance to us but lacking our skill in magic. The Elves made their home in Alfheim. The Asgardians believed the Dark Elves to be born of eternal night – but that is an exaggeration due to their dark skin and the fact that their Realm has two red dwarf suns, creating an eternal night on one half.”

“You don't have dark skin…” Steve pointed out.

She put a hand gently on his shoulder, but said nothing, and his vision blurred for a second. When he turned to ask her what she was doing, the words died on his tongue at the sight in front of him.

The red-haired, pale-skinned woman that he had known Freyja as had been replaced by a willowy, almost skeletal, creature who towered about a foot and a half over him. She had strange skin that seemed to be a mix of black, purple, and blue and straight, waist-length hair that was silver like starlight and moved like water when she turned to look at him. Her face was long and lean and the sharp features made her look ethereal and striking. The only thing that reminded him that the strange being before his eyes was Freyja was the otherworldly blue eyes that questioned him silently.

Though oddly beautiful, there was something about her like this that put him on edge, like he had come face-to-face with a panther. She dropped her hand and the glimpse was gone, replaced once more by her generally human form, but Steve couldn't shake the image of what she truly looked like under the now frighteningly realistic façade.

“Was that-”

“My true form. This,” she gestured at herself, “is nothing more than a mask I wear for the sake of others’ comfort. The only other outsider who has seen my true self is Loki.”

Steve tried to find something to say. When it became clear that he had no words for what he had seen, or what the significance of it was, Freyja began to speak once more.

“As I was saying, the Dark Elves shared many characteristics with us, including our past enmity with Asgard. Tensions were brewing between Asgard and Svartalfheim, the half of Alfheim cloaked in eternal night, and the Dark Elves sought out an object of myth. Asgard scoffed at the idea, until they found it. They called it the Aether, and learned how to use it not only to bring back their dead, but also to convert matter into dark matter. They meant only to use it if Asgard attacked, but Odin’s father, Bor, saw it as a threat and declared war on them.

“A Light Elf by the name of Malekith rose to lead the Dark Elf armies, for he was the most ruthless of his Realm. He reigned destruction down on Asgard in ways no other race had before. Desperate for victory, Bor freed and enlisted the aid of Surtur, a Fire Ettin with a Dwarf-forged sword called Elderstahl. The sword was strong enough to withstand even the power of the Aether, but it also sought out the worst in the wielder and corrupted them beyond repair. It was the move of a desperate king, but never had the self-proclaimed leaders of the Nine been brought low before. He could not suffer such shame.

“Of course, Odin had to destroy Surtur long after, as the Ettin was moving on to other Realms to destroy, but that is a story for another time. Surtur distracted the Dark Elves and the Æsir were able to steal the Aether away. Without their weapon, Surtur and the armies of Asgard moved through Svartalfheim. They killed anyone – soldiers, civilians, children, elders, it did not matter to them once they were under Elderstahl’s influence. Malekith sacrificed his soldiers to stop them, and he did destroy the corrupted Einherjar, but it was too late for the Dark Elves. Surtur escaped and half of Alfheim was left in ruin.

“Bor found Algrim on a scouting mission to the last battlefield. He was bloodied and very nearly crippled, but his wife and sons had been killed. Bor brought him to Asgard, for a reason unknown to me, and he became Odin’s personal manservant. When Odin took the throne, he gave Algrim a seat among the Diar, his council of advisors. It was a scandal which never quite died.

“When I came to Asgard, he and Loki were the ones who found me. He treated me as he would have his children, taught me more than my father ever had, and I loved him as a child would a parent. I was drawn to him because he showed me an affection I never received from my true father.”

“Does he know you’re alive?” Steve asked, smiling at how her harsh tone turned tender when she spoke of Algrim.

Her expression turned dark, “By the time the destruction of my own people came, Algrim had long since passed. He was killed for his crimes against Asgard…”

“Crimes?”

“I left Asgard when I was twelve to travel to each of the Nine Realms for six years, as was the tradition of my people. It was during this time that Loki, Thor, and the Warriors Three journeyed to Jötunheim in search of Elderstahl. They eventually found it, but also started a war between the Jötunns and Æsir by accident.

“In order to keep the peace, Algrim set off to find the group. When he found them, they gave him the sword, but it proved too powerful for him. He already harbored much resentment and bitterness towards Asgard for bringing Surtur’s bloodlust to his Realm and the sword simply magnified his emotions until all reason was lost. He abandoned the group to confront Odin out of revenge.

“He nearly destroyed the palace out of rage, wishing to cause the fall of the House of Odin. Thor and Loki managed to return before Odin was killed, and Thor confronted Algrim while Loki watched over his unconscious father. Algrim was defeated, but it was Loki who killed him with Elderstahl, out of revenge for his gravely wounded father.

“I returned roughly four years later to find that the man I once thought of as family had turned traitor and was mourned by none. None except Loki, Thor, and I who remembered him as he had been: the father-figure we had never had. Algrim treated us all as if we were his own children, offering us what Odin and Njord never could. I believe we reminded him of his sons…”

“Loki killed Algrim?”

She shrugged, “The Asgardians react to threats in rash and unorthodox ways. I would not have killed Algrim, had it been me in such a place, but I understand Loki's actions.”

Freyja stopped suddenly, holding out her hand before her. She frowned as a drop hit her palm and she looked up at the sky as she spoke.

“Rain, even the faintest of drizzles, on a night of the new moons – or moon, as it so happens. Do you know what that means?”

He gave her a sideways glance, his tone dry as he tried to lighten the mood, “We're going to get wet because neither of us have an umbrella?”

She laughed, shaking her head, “Well, I suppose that is one way to perceive it. I meant, do you know how it relates to the future?”

“No…”

“In my culture, it is an omen of sudden change in the near future. I suppose that pertains to my departure,” she said, her words trailing off before she turned to meet Steve’s eyes. “Speaking of which, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Go ahead.”

“I must leave tomorrow, but I fear S.H.I.E.L.D. try to stop me. I need you to create a diversion of sorts so that I may access my jet, as you call it, and leave in peace. It would seem to me that you understand exactly why it is so important that I leave.” –she waited for him to nod before asking – “Can you aid me in this?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded, “Of course. Why won't S.H.I.E.L.D. let you leave, though?”

“Director Fury wishes to glean any amount of knowledge of the Tesseract from me, which I cannot do. Aside from being bound by my word, there will also be someone above him who will use the knowledge I give in destructive ways, and that I cannot allow. It would be no better than handing it to Thanos.”

“Why does Thanos want the Tesseract so desperately?”

She looked him up and down, sighing in resignation, “I cannot tell you all of which you ask but, provided you honor your word, I could divulge a few of his reasons. However, I warn you: if you speak of it to anyone else, you condemn my soul to eternal unrest.”

“What you say stays between us,” he told her.

She inhaled deeply, thinking over what she could and couldn’t tell him, “The Tesseract is one of six items of immeasurable power which, when one holds dominion over all of them, allow the user to manipulate the very fabric of reality. No one is certain where they came from, but they are old as Time. Thanos wants them because he is obsessed with Death and believes he can win Death’s favor by destroying the worlds.”

“Thanos wants to destroy the Nine Realms to please an abstract concept?”

She smiled roguishly, “Oh, Death can take the form of any being they want. And there were never just nine Realms.

“What?”

“The Nine Realms are no more than a grain of sand in a desert. We are infinitesimal in compare,” she told him. “There are worlds within worlds; parallel universes that coexist side-by-side and never touch. Dimensions that exist on a different astral plane than our own, each one so close and yet so far. And all of them can be reached through the Tesseract. Even if Thanos destroyed every world in our universe, he would simply move to the next, eventually wiping out life in every dimension. That is why I can never let him find it.”

“And no one else knows about this?”

“Only five people in my time knew the truth but, now, only I remain. You’re the only outsider I have ever told this to,” she said. “I suppose that you could think of yourself as the unofficial human ambassador to Vanaheim.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Me, Earth’s ambassador? I don't think I'm qualified for that.”

“Nonsense. You are more qualified than any agent S.H.I.E.L.D. can come up with. You are by far the most rational, unbiased, trustworthy human I have ever come across. And in my time, I have seen many of your people.”

“Well, for the record, you're the most peaceful and considerate alien I've ever met.”

She laughed, “I can't imagine you've met many peaceful beings of late, what with Asgardians being prone to violence.”

“They haven't exactly gotten us to trust them completely. Then again, I suppose you can’t blame us if you look at what they’ve done. First Thor arrives in New Mexico, bringing a machine called the Destroyer trailing after him, courtesy of a family grudge. Then Loki comes with hopes of conquering our planet, another alien army in tow. Both incidents have made S.H.I.E.L.D. wary of any alien that decides to turn up for a visit.”

“I understand. My own people grew so worried that we cut our home world off from the rest. Asgard particularly drew our ire,” she informed him. “The Destroyer was a Vaniric creation meant to be used as a defensive measure, but the Asgardians used it for war. It was like that for a long time, my people would invent a new technological advancement, and the other realms would use it for violence. So we moved Vanaheim to a new branch of Yggdrasil and cloaked it in several layers of incantations. No outsiders have seen Vanaheim in four millennia.”

He whistled, “So your people just separated themselves from the rest of the worlds?”

“We were always separated, just not by space. We are different from the rest of the worlds, created to keep balance between all of the Nine Realms and the Unknown, according to the spiritual belief of my people. No matter how comfortable the other races make us in their Realms, we will always stand alone. The strange Vanir that keep calm for eternity and make a man lose his will.”

“I don't think you're that strange.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

He laughed, “I didn't say you weren't kind of odd, I just said you aren't  _that_  strange.”

“You sound like Loki now,” she noted sadly. “Playing with words to change their meanings.”

“Is that one of the reasons you liked him?”

“Hmm?”

“Because you two were so alike, so different from the rest of your own?”

She nodded, “We were, and always will be, two outsiders among the worlds. But it is better to be outcast with another than to be alone despite acceptance.”

“You were an outcast?”

“It’s difficult to explain exactly how my life was before I left for Asgard. Although none but my father and a handful of Healers knew, I’m not entirely Vaniric and I think, deep down, the rest of us could sense it. Though they were kind to me and I to them, there was always a sense of distance between myself and the rest of my people. And you already have a clue as to how my father was. Under the pressure of both, I found I could not bear to stay any longer.”

“So that’s why you left.”

“Do not mistake me, I loved Vanaheim and her people. It just wasn’t home,” she said, suddenly giving a hollow sort of laugh. “Of course, Asgard wasn’t home, either. But it was where I learned the truth.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“Only Freyr and Loki,” she answered. “I told him of my blood, but I could not tell him that I was older than him. I couldn’t bring myself to do so.”

“How was it important?”

Her expression lost all traces of contentment, turning grim at his words, “I was the elder child and my father's true firstborn. It may mean nothing to you here, but it was significant on Vanaheim. There is power in our blood and magic in our souls. As the firstborn child, the ritual used to crown the next king would have failed on Freyr, as the ancient magics would not have recognized his claim. He always wanted the throne as a child, often telling me of what he would do, what he would change. I didn’t have a word for it at the time, but he wanted to move Vanaheim’s government from an absolute monarchy to an executive one. His vision would never have been realized fully.”

His eyes widened, “You couldn’t have abdicated?”

“No. The ancient magics don’t recognize loopholes and would have required nothing short of my death, without an heir, in order for Freyr to become king.”

Steve thought over her words, something about her story nagging at him, “I thought the Vanir can't lie. How did your father get away with hiding your true identity?”

“He said that I was his daughter, which was the truth. He always said my mother died giving birth to me, which was also true, and he always said so when he directed the answer to me. By doing so, he was speaking only to me and was, therefore, not lying to Freyr. We didn’t speak of her often, allowing him to evade most questions. Most of his deception was simply manipulating the truth.”

“How did you find out?”

She looked intently at her feet, kicking an empty bottle aside as they neared the Tower, “I read a bit of Queen Van's journal to find out more about the woman I had believed to be my mother. It was there I read of an Elf-Vanir baby that my father brought to the palace. She killed herself out of grief when she found out I was his.

“I ran off to Alfheim – for what, I’m not entirely sure – but I managed to stumble across my aunt, Ysmay, and her daughter Eira. I must subconsciously remember what my mother looked like, for I actually took a similar form when I first traveled to Asgard, and she recognized me from that. I suppose fate is funny that way. Ysmay took me into their home, told me of all she knew, even gave me my mother’s sketchbook.” – she smiled sadly now, her eyes still miles away – “She was an artist on Alfheim, a gift I did not inherit, and had even painted portraits for the Queen of Alfheim.

“I did not speak to my father or brother for a week after – too afraid to face them with the truth. I did not even leave my rooms. I would not accept any visitors, refused to eat or sleep. I felt broken. It was three days before I finally allowed Loki to see me, but no one else. He comforted me for the rest of the week, but he could only do so much. The rest was up to me.

“I eventually left my chambers for Vanaheim where I confronted my father about my revelations. It was from then that our shaky relationship fell apart at last. I cut my ties to him and never looked back.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“I confess, I do not know exactly why,” she said, looking to him at last. “I suppose it is because you are the first to listen in a very long time. But I should not burden you with such. Forgive me.”

“There's nothing to forgive. But there must be someone else who’ll listen.”

“Thor and Loki are too close to the matter and, I fear the more they hear, the more anxiety I will cause them. And I do not trust your comrades enough just yet. Bruce is kind enough, but I do not know him all that well. Tony is…well, you and I both know how Tony is. Clint and Natasha would only…”

She stopped suddenly, her eyes focusing on something beyond Steve’s shoulder as she narrowed her eyes. He was standing on the sidewalk, staring at her from across the road, as the few people around him walked past as though they could not see him. She could have recognized those green eyes anywhere. But Loki could not truly be there, she knew.

He stood rigidly against the window of a closed store, his entire posture radiating with discomfort. He wore the same suit as when she had thought she saw him earlier. His jaw was set angrily, at what she couldn't tell, and his eyes glittered with betrayal.

“Freyja, are you okay?”

She turned to Steve, “Do you see him?”

He glanced in the direction she had been staring, “Who? There's no one I know over there…”

She turned her head to see that Loki had gone, leaving only a few stragglers behind. What was going on? Was she losing her mind?

“He was just there…” she murmured.

Steve eyed her cautiously, his words quiet as he said, “We'd better get back to the Tower. I think the night's starting to get to your head.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded grudgingly, turning her eyes away from where Loki had been standing.

Steve took her arm, surprising her with the gesture, and led her down the street again. She immediately thought about Loki and how the gentle touch at her elbow reminded her of him. Her mind brought up memories of dancing with him, of picnics with his children, of stargazing on the Bifrost in the middle of the night.

“Steve,” she started, thinking about the knowledge she had just given him.

“Yes?”

“There is something I must give you,” she answered, retrieving the object through magic.

She held it in her palm so he could see. It was an obsidian pendant in the shape of a howling wolf, fashioned so that is looked more like a silhouette than anything. Each link of its silver chain was inscribed with graceful runes.

“Thank you?” Steve muttered, wondering what had prompted the gesture.

She rolled her eyes, “It is not an ordinary necklace, as you are thinking, it is an amulet. You're going to need the protection it entails, or trouble will seek you out for the knowledge I have given you.”

He looked at her skeptically, taking it carefully from her.

“Wear it on your person at all times and no spiritual or mental harm shall befall you.”

“Isn't it the physical harm I should worry about?” he said, his tone only half serious.

“Not anymore. Welcome to my world of shadows and reality,” she said, her mouth tugging into a grin. “You may be bruised, beaten, cut, and broken, but you are not truly harmed until the sanctity of your mind has been defiled. Your body is temporary, but your mind and soul are eternal. The fight is never truly over until your spirit has been lost.”

He looked at her worriedly, tucking the necklace into his pocket. The way she was speaking made him think that she was saying this out of experience. He wondered how much she had truly kept from him. Her tone, however, was beginning to scare him a bit. She looked more exhausted than ever, and her rambling and staring into space was not reassuring. He knew they were close to the Avengers Tower, but he began wondering whether rest would actually help Freyja. In the fluorescent lights of the city, she looked older than she had at the club.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked.

“I feel fine, honestly. I'm simply dreading tomorrow.”

He nodded, not quite believing her, but didn’t say anything more. They walked in silence for a good ten minutes, the only sounds coming from the occasional passing car. He was honestly grateful for how late it was. It kept them from being bothered by paparazzi and the like, who had been following Steve and the other Avengers when they could. He had no doubt that if they could have seen he and Freyja, they would have likely spun a story of speculated romance, which would only serve to add gasoline to the fire that was Tony’s conjecture.

“When do you want me to distract Fury and the other agents?” Steve asked, hoping to break the silence that had overtaken them.

“Meet me at the Tower at nine in the morning, and we shall journey to the Triskelion together.”

“The Bunker is closer. It’s an underground S.H.I.E.L.D. base a couple dozen miles from here, but the traffic won’t be as bad,” he answered as they turned the corner to see the tower not ten feet before them.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for accompanying me,” she said, inclining her head slightly. “And forgive me for worrying you.”

Steve opened his mouth to ask how she had known, but remembered what she had said about reading his aura and instead said, “Don't mention it. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Do you not have a floor in this tower to call home?” she asked.

He glanced up at the building, a smile on his face, “I do. But I think I’ll stay out for a little bit and clear my head. Good night, Freyja”

“Good night, Steven,” she muttered, being careful to only touch the glass door by the steel handle.

She shuffled into the elevator, wishing, not for the first time, that she could freeze time. She couldn't count the number of times she had fought her weariness and started on her journey again. It was tiring. She would become comfortable in one place for a week, only to find her strength to leave waning. The tediousness of the reoccurring situation was enough to push her over the edge. And yet she clung desperately to the little strength she had.

She cursed her father silently, wishing he had a heart enough to not condemn her to such punishment. She knew she was dying. Not in the physical way that the humans around her would, but something slower and less noticeable. Her hope for something better was fading. But she didn’t want to die, that much she had proved to herself time and time again, and so she would keep going until Thanos’s past caught up with him or until she finally lost all her strength to carry on. _Or until the prophecy comes true_ , she thought morbidly.

The elevator opened as it reached the penthouse. She walked out quietly, making sure not to wake Bruce, who had fallen asleep on the couch. As she closed the door of her borrowed rooms behind her, she became aware of a familiar presence.

Her head snapped in the direction of the corner of the room. In the shadows, she could just make out the figure of a man. He was sitting on a wooden chair, head hanging dejectedly, but she couldn’t mistake the black hair that clung to the nape of his neck. He shifted, and she caught a glimpse of deep blue.

“So, the soldier…” a low, familiar voice trailed off.

Her eyes widened as she realized she had been right all along.

“Loki?”


	18. Chapter 17: Whispers in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki realizes he's not the only one with demons that just won't die.

_“Love me when I least deserve it because that is when I really need it.”_

–Swedish Proverb

* * *

 

Loki didn't look up when Freyja called him, he couldn't find the strength to do so. He had wanted to speak to her, going so far as to risk using mental projection but had found her chambers empty. When he had finally found her, he saw her dancing with the super-soldier. He had watched as she laughed with him and her eyes lit up the way they did when she was in good company. And despite having to walk away, he had followed them through the city.

He supposed he shouldn't feel envious, as he knew that Freyja would in no way betray him, but he couldn't help it. He wanted nothing more than to take her back to Asgard and make her eyes light up with happiness as they did when she was with the soldier. Then he wondered if maybe he should encourage her to pursue the soldier. He was a monster, after all, and she deserved better. And yet the anger he felt towards the Midgardian did not allow him to linger over such thoughts.

It was only when the man had taken her by the arm, in the way Loki had done so many times before, that his anger subsided to leave only sorrow. What if she truly did fancy the soldier who shared so many of her ideals? He couldn't bear the thought. Wondering what she saw in himself, Loki had pulled away the Æsir illusion that he always wore, that had become almost a part of him now. He hadn’t expected her to walk in as he was still in Jötunn form.

“Loki,” she called again, reaching for him.

He slid his chair further into the corner, deeper into the shadows, to avoid her touch, “Will you tell me the entire truth? Sparing my emotions?”

“What are you speaking of?”

“I saw you…and the soldier…and I want to know why,” he said softly.

“Why what?” she asked, her voice softer than he had expected. “There is nothing to explain.”

“I know you saw me watching you. What were you doing in such a place?”

“Tony decided to throw a going-away party as this is my last night on Midgard. He invited the rest of the Avengers and any friends who were willing to come. We had a good time.”

“I could tell,” he answered bitterly.

“Loki, it was no different than when you, Thor, Sif, the Warriors Three, and I went to the tavern on the outskirts of Asgard. It was nothing serious.”

“The soldier seemed to think otherwise.”

“ _Steve_  was simply being a gentleman. Can I not enjoy the night with a friend?”

“You were dancing with him, Freyja, laughing with him.”

She threw her hands in the air exasperatedly, “Are you aware of just how many times I have danced or laughed with someone other than you? Are you telling me that you are jealous of every person who gives me the slightest amount of momentary happiness?”

He shook his head, giving a wan smile, “I am envious of the very sunlight that shines down on you. You truly have no idea what effect you have upon me, let alone upon others.”

“And what, pray tell, is that?”

“You draw people in, bring out the most in them. People crave your very presence in the room. Are you aware of how much each one deserves you more than I do?”

“Loki, this isn’t about who is the more deserving in my life. It is about who I choose.”

He chuckled darkly, “Yes, the discarded Prince of Jötunheim is who holds your favor. I am not naïve, Freyja. I know you too well to believe the half-truths you tell yourself. You look at me and you despise my actions, I can see it in your eyes.”

“You were under Thanos’s influence,” she said harshly. “No one would have been able to fight against what power he was wielding.”

“But I was not under his control when I led the Jötunns into Asgard, when I turned the power of the Bifrost onto their homeworld.”

She flinched, “Why are you doing this?”

He watched her sadly as he said, “Because you need to stop deceiving yourself. You need to look at the truth of the matter and decide whether you truly want to associate yourself with me after all I’ve done.”

“Odin made the path you walked with his own deceptions and mistakes,” she said, her eyes on the ground as she clenched her fingers at her sides. “He tried to use you and so paid for his own folly.”

“Freyja…”

“You have killed no more than I have!”

That silenced him, the words he had been prepared to say died on his lips as he met her gaze. There was a sort of silent horror in her blues eyes, one he had mistaken before as directed towards his actions, and he realized that there was something she had been keeping from him. She looked away under his scrutiny as though wishing she had not allowed such a thing to slip out.

“Freyja…I remember the hunt Thor dragged you on when we were young. The only time you actually shot something was when you killed the elk Thor had wounded, and that was out of mercy. You’re not a killer.”

She met his gaze for a single instant, grief mingling with the shame, and then she turned towards the nightstand beside the bed. Pulling what looked like two golden bands from the drawer, she tossed them in his direction with a small incantation to keep them floating in midair. Loki stood up to get a better look at them and, as he couldn’t touch them while only projection, walked around them.

They were obviously Dwarven-made, with patterns of silver vines and roses pressed into the surface. _Vanadis_ was carved into the surface of one and _Stigand_ into the other. Both were titles, he knew, and she had to have received them after she left Asgard. But it was the inside of each that caught his eye. There were rows and rows of lines, smooth and precise in a way that could only mean they had been created by magic, that nearly covered the entire inside surfaces of both armlets. There was something familiar about the marks, as though he had seen them before.

Then he remembered Brokk and Sindri. He remembered watching them prepare the forge after making the bet, remembered them rolling up their sleeves to reveal scars in the same pattern. It had caught his attention, as Ivaldi and his sons had never had such scars, and he had been horrified by the reason behind them. But these were more than the brothers had sported, more than Loki could count at the time.

“What have you done, love?”

The words were barely louder than a breath, but he could see Freyja flinch at them. She sat down on the edge of the bed, not bothering to meet his eyes, as she spoke.

“Thanos knows the beliefs of my people, knows our religion and our vows, and he also knows that I can’t bear the sight of others suffering,” she said, her voice harsh and cold. “Every time he gets close to where I am, he does what he can to draw me out. I have watched him bathe the starways with the blood of the innocent all because he wants my attention. And I have let him, justified my inaction by thinking that a few hundred lives are not worth billions.

“But I have kept them with me. I never allow myself to forget their sacrifice, for they remind me of what I can protect and what I cannot. The truth, however, is something I push away for I cannot bear to think of it. I could stop them if I wanted. I could have stopped them long ago.”

Loki shook his head, walking towards her, “You are powerful, love, but you and I both know you could not defeat Thanos on your own.”

“But I could stop it,” she hissed, and Loki nearly missed the fact that she was crying. “I could stop it, I’ve known I could for so long, but I am not brave enough to do so. I cannot face my own-”

Her words broke off, a strangled sort of sound escaping her lips, and Loki realized what was happening. He had seen such a thing before, back when they had been children. It was an anomaly that only occurred when she tried to speak of something which she had vowed never to repeat. There were secrets she kept, she had told him that time, which she could not speak of unless it was entirely unavoidable.

He reached for her, but his fingertips slipped through her shoulder and his projection wavered. Her body shook as she sobbed, unable to speak freely and explain, and Loki felt helpless to help her.

“I wish I could say,” she managed to say. “I wish I could tell you, if only to feel less alone, but I cannot. Not yet. Perhaps not at all.”

Loki sat down as best he could on the bed next to her, wondering once again if he would ever know exactly what Njord had demanded of Freyja. It was no secret to Loki and his family that the Vanaheim king had been quite cruel to his daughter, though they rarely brought it up, but he was never sure just how far Njord had gone.

He remembered the time they had learned that Freyja didn’t respond to pain. It had been one of the rare moments when Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three had managed to drag him out onto the training field. She had gotten too close just as Thor had been getting angry at Loki’s illusions, had been in exactly the wrong place when Thor had brought his mace back, and Loki could still hear the sharp crack as the metal shattered the bones of her wrist and forearm. Blood had run down her pale skin, but she had stopped Thor from seriously injuring Loki in a rage.

It had been then, as she had held back the eldest prince of Asgard with her radial bone visible and blood staining her tunic, that they had begun to realize why Freyja had left Vanaheim. It was common knowledge that the Vanir were the weakest species physically among the Nine, but she hadn’t so much as flinched at the impact of the mace. It had taken months afterwards, after a lot of uncomfortable trials and many trips to the Healing Room, for her to finally begin to respond to pain as any other person would.

But Njord had been dead for millennia, his life snuffed out with the destruction of Vanaheim, and yet he was still tormenting Freyja somehow. It hurt Loki to think that she was still facing things which he could never know and there was nothing he could do to help. He could not even comfort her, confined lightyears away in the prisons beneath Asgard for an indefinite amount of time.

“Freyja,” he began softly. “I don’t know what it is that you believe you could do to stop this, but believe me when I say that if there is a reason why you have not done so already, it cannot possibly be because you are a coward. You are the bravest person I have ever known.”

When she didn’t respond, her expression hidden behind messy waves of crimson curls, he continued on.

“And it isn’t just myself who thinks so. Fenrir told me once, not long after you had left, that he wanted to be as brave and strong as you. Even Hela thought so, often telling me that she would remember the confidence you held in your actions – even if others looked upon them with disdain. Jormungand was no different. Norns, they idolized you after you were gone.”

“What happened to them?” Freyja asked suddenly, her voice still soft and shaking. “After I had gone?”

Loki smiled, knowing she was trying to cling to the distraction in order to feel better. If he thought of his initial reason for speaking to her, he pushed it aside, for it could wait until a better time. Their fate was still unknown. If they ever got to that bridge, they would cross or burn it at that time. But not now. Not yet.

“They grieved at first, as we all did,” he told her. “But then they began to think more on the times you had helped them rather than how you had gone. Jormungand threw himself into his studies when he became a sorcerer, became as good with magic as any Vanir. Fenrir dabbled a bit, but he focused more on diplomacy and politics, even traveled the Realms when he came of age. He’s in Alfheim last I saw him, living with his wife and son.”

“Fenrir’s married?”

He nodded, “I was just as shocked when he brought Haelga to Asgard for the announcement. Odin looked furious, but Thor and Mother were supportive. Jormungand and Hela have yet to find anyone, unfortunately, but they are absolutely smitten with the nephew. His name is Feilan. And he’s a little musician. Give him an instrument he has never seen before and, within five minutes, he will play it as though he’s done so for years.”

“And Hela? Not still having trouble, is she?”

“Not as much,” Loki conceded. “She still gets an occasional problem, but that is my fault. The people are not exactly forgiving towards me. She was most affected by your disappearance, as you were the closest thing she had to a mother. The twins, they knew Angrboda, but not Hela.

“She took everything you taught her to heart. Every belief of compassion and mercy was one she accepted and, after a time, the people began to see past her…physical differences. Had Odin still given out titles at the time, I believe she would have become something along the lines of the goddess of empathy.”

“Odin was not giving out titles?”

Loki shook his head, “He never did explain why he stopped. After Vanaheim was destroyed, he simply ceased to do so. Jormungand and Fenrir didn’t take it quite as poorly as she did.”

“Poor Hela,” Freyja said, and Loki realized she sounded a bit more composed. “I wish I could have returned…”

“I understand why you couldn't, so I'm certain she will understand, as well.”

Freyja finally looked up at him, her lips tugging into a half-smile, “Have I ever told you that you always seem to know exactly what to say?”

“You might have, but I can’t remember. Regardless, it doesn’t hurt to hear it again,” he said with a smirk. “What else have you not told me?”

“I haven't told you how much I want you to stay here with me,” she teased, kicking the shoes off her feet and onto the floor.

A smirk crept across his face, despite his mood, “Really?”

“Will you?” she asked, blue eyes searching his imploringly.

He placed his hand as close to the top of hers as he could without ruining his projection, willing his Asgardian form back into place, “Of course.”

She frowned at that, looking down at his hand on hers, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

She pressed her hand carefully to the side of his face and, even all the way in his prison cell, Loki could have sworn he could feel the warmth of her touch despite the illusion.

“Please don’t feel as though you need to hide yourself,” she said, her voice so solemn that it almost hurt. “Regardless of what Asgard believes, your skin does not define who you are. You are beautiful no matter what skin you wear.”

Shaking his head, Loki gave a soft laugh, “Vanir. Only your people would find Jötunns to be beautiful.”

“Only the Æsir would find anyone to be ugly because of their skin color,” she countered, slipping her legs onto the bed so that she could lie down.

Sliding down beside her on the mattress, Loki allowed himself to slip back into his Jötunn form. It was, admittedly, more comfortable. It was almost as though he had a continuous mild discomfort when in Æsir form that slipped away as he dropped the façade. And Freyja didn’t flinch at the sight of his blue skin, unlike Thor had the first time.

“How long would you like me to stay?” he whispered, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

She shrugged, her own eyes closed, as she replied, “As long as you would like. Until dawn, if you wish, but know that I am leaving shortly afterward.”

He nodded in understanding, beginning to hum a Vaniric tune that he had heard long ago. She smiled at the sound, a gesture which he almost missed, but made no sound other than to give a contented sigh. He continued to watch her, memorizing everything he could: the way her hair coiled into loose ringlets, the gentle line of her cheekbone, the slope of her eyes, the way her lashes fanned across the edge of her cheeks, and the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. If only he could actually be there, he thought idly. He would envelope her in his arms, pulling her close until her skin almost burned against his, and bury his face in her silken tresses if only to catch the faintest hint of wildflowers and the sea that always seemed to linger around her.

“Loki?” she whispered, shattering his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“I love you. No matter what happens in the future, know that I am eternally yours,” she whispered, her words turning melodic as she spoke in her native language. “Whether the threads of time rend apart or the Nine Realms collapse, never forget that you will always have me.”

“I won't,” he murmured in reply, reverting to Vaniric, as well. “And know that I am eternally yours in return. Regardless of what may come.”

“If you insist, I suppose I cannot refuse,” she teased, an amused grin playing across he lips.

He chuckled, but said no more, allowing her to drift into sleep. Occasionally, he would shift her memories so that she would sleep peacefully for the night. He wondered idly if there was an incantation that could stop time. Although he knew there was not one, he wanted nothing more than to freeze the moment and spend eternity peacefully with the woman he loved by his side. But he knew that was impossible. He would simply have to hope for the best and pray that their luck would turn, allowing her to come back to him.


	19. Chapter 18: Twists of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve turns out to be a Frost-Iron troll, an escape plan is hatched, and an old enemy comes to play.

_“We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are. Sane or insane. Heroes or victims. Letting history tell us how good or bad we are. Letting our past decide our future. Or we can decide for ourselves. And maybe it’s our job to invent something better.”_

–Chuck Palahniuk

* * *

 

Sunlight streamed into the room as Jarvis opened the blinds on the windows, causing Freyja to stir from her sleep. She looked around for Loki, but realized he would have left sometime in the night, and gave a sigh. It had occurred to her that night that it was unlikely that he would stay till the dawn. That didn’t stop it from disheartening her, though.

She walked over to the closet and pulled out the green tunic and leather trousers she had recently repaired, knowing she'd attract much less attention in them on the other Realms than if she were to wear her Midgardian clothes. Once finished dressing, she moved to the bedside table where she kept all of her jewelry, besides the ring Loki gave her, which she never removed.

She looked at herself in the full length mirror next to the closet, assessing the differences since she had last looked in a mirror. Usually, she avoided them at all costs, not wanting to see the face she saw. Apparently, she took her mother's appearance when in Asgardian form, though she didn't know why. She had never seen anything more than pictures of her mother – but that had only been long after she had first gone to Asgard.

The woman in the mirror was tall and proud in appearance. She seemed so calm and collected, the exact opposite of what Freyja truly felt. What she loathed about mirrors was the fact that they showed her something false. She was not Asgardian but, even if she changed her form back to her true appearance, she would still not look as she truly was. Her eyes were not naturally blue, her hair had originally been silver, and she was not as tall as the rest of her people. But her father had created some form of permanent spell that hid the three aspects that marked her for what she truly was. There had been a time when such superficial things wouldn’t have troubled her. But with all she knew now, the illusion existed only as a physical marker for the true deception she hid behind.

With a shake of her head to dispel such thoughts, she turned away and pulled her briefcase out from under her bed. The strong pull of the Tesseract could be felt through the metal, calling out to her as it did to only those who shared its power in their blood, but she ignored the singing in her veins. She ran her hand over its surface and it shrunk to the size of a die. Checking around the room one last time, she pulled a silver chain from the briefcase, slipping the Tesseract into the tree root-shaped pendant so that it wrapped around the cube, and clasped it around her neck.

Though she had originally planned to leave the Tesseract in the briefcase, she didn’t want to be put in a situation where she would have to leave it – and, subsequently, the Tesseract – behind. It was safer on her person. So she tucked it away beneath the hem of her tunic and closed the briefcase, turning off the lights in the room as she walked out. As she walked down the hall, she shrunk the briefcase until it was the size of Tony’s cell phones and slid it into her pocket, as she didn’t want to attract attention. The air around her shimmered as her tunic and trousers took on the appearance of one of Tony’s T-shirts and a pair of acid-washed jeans.

She stopped in surprise when she saw Bruce asleep on the couch and Tony standing still, staring at her with his arms crossed over his chest. Though she knew what he looked angry about, as it had to be related to her revenge on him for all his callous words, she pulled on a mask of confusion. No need to give it away too soon.

“Is everything alright, Tony?”

“Don’t ‘is everything alright, Tony’ me,” he said slowly. “I know it was you.”

She frowned at him, “What was me?”

Questions were always a safe bet. There was almost no way to lie with a question, and they worked to distract the other participant of the conversation. If she played her cards right, which she could almost guarantee, she would never have to admit to the prank aloud.

“You know exactly what.”

She shook her head, “I can hardly give you the answers you seek if you refuse to tell me what is wrong.”

It wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the full truth. She didn’t have to give him the answer he wanted, the confession he was there for, if he didn’t explicitly ask for it. If he never asked an explicit yes-or-no question regarding the problem, she could get away with half-truths and more questions.

“I don’t know how you did it, but you snuck into my lab last night and painted all of my suits in the colors of your boyfriend,” he snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “All of them are gold, green, and black now!”

“Have you asked Bruce if he had seen anything?” she asked, gesturing towards the couch.

Tony walked over to the couch and shook Bruce awake. Freyja smiled inwardly, keeping her face in an emotionless mask to keep from giving anything away. She was quite amused at just how irate Tony was becoming over his suit. His reaction was definitely worth it, but she couldn't wait until he attempted to repaint them.

“What is it, Tony?” Bruce mumbled, not opening his eyes.

“Did you see anything strange when you dragged me back here last night?”

“Strange as in…?”

Tony tossed him his glasses and waved a hand over the coffee table, bringing up a three dimensional view of the Iron Man suits in his lab, “As in someone sneaking into my lab and doing that!”

Bruce squinted at it before putting his glasses on and staring in shock, though Freyja didn’t miss the small twitch in his lips from where he was fighting a smile, “What happened?”

“She painted it!”

Bruce looked to Freyja, who tapped a finger to her lips, “Did she tell you that?”

“No, but-”

“Well, we already know she can’t lie.”

“I…oh.”

The elevator doors slid open at that moment, revealing a very upbeat Steve. Freyja had to fight the relieved sigh at the sight of him, as she was beginning to think Tony might be catching on, and instead turned to face the captain. He walked out and opened his mouth to say something but stopped when he saw all three and the hologram of the suits. He didn’t even bother to fight his smile.

“Oh, the fangirls are going to love that,” he laughed. “What was it they called it? Iron Giant? Toki?”

“Frost-iron,” Bruce corrected.

“Shut up,” Tony said, narrowing his eyes at both of them, but she could still see the amusement in them. “Who could have come in here without alerting anyone and…Natasha. Or Clint. Or both.”

Steve looked at him in concern, “I think you still may be a little drunk, Stark.”

“What are you even doing here?”

“Freyja, Bruce, and I are going to S.H.I.E.L.D. for a presentation.”

“We are?” Bruce asked.

Steve and Freyja exchanged glances, both unsure what to say.

“You did not know?” Freyja asked. “I wish to offer an advancement my people had no use for, but may impact your people greatly.”

Now everyone was staring at her in surprise. She inwardly sighed, knowing they would never fool anyone if Steve didn't start putting a little effort into his act.  _Don't be surprised, I believe I told you I could enter the minds of others_ , she said in his head. _You need to improvise a little, or no one will believe us._

Steve opened and closed his mouth before he could manage to pull himself together enough to speak, “Yeah, Freyja told me last night about it. But she refused to tell me what it was, said it was a surprise. I'm guessing it's in your room?”

 _Tread carefully_ , she thought desperately to him _, you will have to do most of the talking as I can only bend the truth so much…_

“I'll go and get it, shall I?” she said aloud, walking briskly towards her room.

She paced around her room, thinking desperately of what she could possibly summon up to use, as she had nothing at the present that would be of any use to S.H.I.E.L.D. Everything that was in her rooms in Asgard was personal to her in some way. To part with them, even if it meant her escape, wouldn’t be easy for her.

Then she remembered something that she truly didn’t have a use for, but the humans might. She quickly said the necessary incantation to bring it to Earth. When she finished, she could feel the fluid-like material of the fabric in her hands. It was a bodysuit, similar to the suits she had seen the agents wear, but this one was made to cover every inch of the wearer’s body. Satisfied that this would work perfectly, she walked back out to join the rest.

“Here we are,” she said, holding it up.

“It's a catsuit,” Tony said skeptically.

She looked at him in confusion, but decided she'd rather not know what he was talking about, “Actually, loosely translated, it would be called 'Shadow Suit'.”

“What does it do?” Bruce asked.

She ran her fingers over it until she found the seam, slipping her arm into the suit up to her elbow. Instantly, as she knew exactly what she was doing, it shimmered until all of it disappeared except for what was hanging on her arm. The fabric that lay draped over her forearm had altered itself to look like iridescent black scales, giving the illusion a reptilian look. It reverted to its original state as she pulled it off.

“It allows the wearer to transform into whatever, or whomever, they please simply by thought, as such surface thoughts can be read in the aura. The illusion remains until the wearer removes it. Seeing as my people can already change our shape, it's rather redundant.”

Bruce blinked at the object, “But if your people were capable of shapeshifting, why invent something which allows you to change your appearance?”

“My people often created things simply for the sake of determining whether or not they could be created.”

“We should probably get going,” Steve said, cutting off any question Tony had been about to ask. “They're expecting us in about twenty minutes.”

Freyja nodded, “We had better hurry, then.”

* * *

Steve and Freyja quickly made their way through the Bunker, their disappearances mostly unnoticed, thanks to an excuse regarding their equally high metabolisms. Bruce had stayed with the board of agents to present the shadow suit and provide the distraction in doing so. He had been reluctant to lie to S.H.I.E.L.D. without Tony, although he had agreed that Fury would have guessed something was up, and eventually came around.

It didn’t take long for them to get to the hangar that held her ship. They were not stopped by other agents, as Freyja was using a charm to keep them invisible, and so the trip took a little under ten minutes.

She pulled the miniature briefcase out of her pocket and restored it to its normal size. As she placed her hand against a raised square directly under the windshield on the right side of the jet, the whole ship lit up, the engine purring softly to life. The crystal windshield swung open and she tossed the briefcase inside, turning to Steve at the last moment.

“Thank you for everything,” she said, enveloping him in a hug. “I will never forget your kindness.”

He turned red at her words, “It was nothing. Be careful out there, alright?”

“Of course,” she answered, leaping onto the wing of the plane in one bound. “May you live a long and happy life, Steve Rogers. You will find what you are looking for.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a frown.

She turned to look at him, about to answer his question, when the whole base shook with the force similar to that of a large earthquake. Both crashed to the floor as bits of the ceiling fell and the floors shook. Freyja pushed herself onto her hands and knees when it stopped, her eyes meeting Steve’s in horror as they waited. When there was no sound of the Hulk, Steve visibly relaxed, but Freyja felt her veins prickle in fear. She could feel it even then.

“No,” she whispered, leaping to her feet. “Oh, _Sophossentia,_ no.”

“What is it?”

Freyja pulled the Tesseract necklace off, draping it over Steve and tucking it hurriedly into his shirt, “I need you to take that and get Bruce. Go back to the Tower and, for the love of all things living, do not take it off. Warn as many as you can to evacuate.”

She turned to run, but he grabbed her upper arm.

“What was it, Freyja?”

“It’s Thanos,” she whispered. “He’s come for me. I need to distract him while you get away, so you can keep the Tesseract away.”

“But-”

She looked him straight in the eyes, a steely glint in the bright blue hue, “Don't come back for me, Steve. I'm asking you as a soldier.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but decided against it and nodded. Fairly certain that he would listen, she ran out the door and allowed her armor to form around her. The armor had very seldom ever been used, but she knew it was adequate for what she was about to do. She extended her mind to her surroundings in search of the cold presence of Thanos. As she pinpointed his whereabouts, she laughed internally at how fate had given her a chance to prove Loki’s word true. Perhaps she could be as brave as Loki and his family believed her to be.

Her surroundings were a blur around her as she raced through the halls towards the large room of computers she guessed to be a control center. As she burst through the door, she stopped in shock.

The room was in chaos, the wreckage of tables, electronics, chairs, and a few bodies strewn across the place. The tall, stocky figure of Thanos was in the center of the room, facing away from her. He held a woman by the neck in front of him and as he growled demands at her. It took her a moment to recognize the woman as Natasha.

She formed a small blade of pure energy in her hand and launched it at the Eternal, “Thanos!”

He dropped Natasha as the blade cut through his flesh, growling in pain. The giant spun with surreal grace that did not match his stature as he turned to face her. A strange grin crossed his face as he ran his Tesseract blue eyes, the same shade as hers, up and down her figure. As his eyes trailed back up to hers, she motioned subtly for Natasha to make for the door. The spy might not have liked her, but she knew when she was outmatched, and did as Freyja wished.

“Princess Freyja,” he said as he mock bowed. “It has been too long. You look well.”

“I'm in no mood for games. Your quarrel is with me, leave the humans out of it.”

“Your protection of the weaker species continues to astound me.”

“And your lack of compassion disgusts me,” she countered, trying to buy Steve, and Natasha, time to get away. “For how many years did you take advantage of my people’s kindness, and yet learned nothing.”

A muscle at the corner of his lips twitched and she knew she struck a nerve.

“Enough of your games, witch. Where is the Tesseract?”

“I sent it away,” she spat. “You'll be lucky if you so much as sense it, now.”

And he was upon her in the blink of an eye, his fingers closing around her throat as he pushed her against the wall. She could feel the bruises forming on her skin, her throat closing up under the pressure, even as she clawed at his arm.

“You seem to find all this amusing. Perhaps I should share my own amusements with you.”

Her lips curled into a sneer as she fought back the all-consuming fear that tainted his aura, “Only in Niflheim, Thanos.”

And, with that, she drove another blade of energy into his torso. His grip on her loosened and she pulled away. Once four feet away from him, she created a spear out of her energy and lunged towards him. She may have never truly fought on the offensive, but she believed in defending herself, and she knew every Asgardian battle technique that could be taught.

He unsheathed the large sword at his side, his black aura flaring around him. Although learned in the art of magic, he had little ability to use it himself, but he had enough to give himself near invulnerability. But she had secrets on her side of which he would never know. That alone gave her hope.

She concentrated on her attacks and defenses, but also allowed herself to assess the situation. He had superior physical strength and was knowledgeable in magic, but lacked the necessary creativity and flexibility of the mind. She was quicker, more limber, stronger in magic, and much more adaptable. But she was also physically weaker and it would only take a few good hits to bring her to her knees.

It was then, as she let her thoughts distract her too much, that she made her mistake. Thanos landed a forceful kick to her ribcage. Throwing a shield of energy up around herself, the force of the blow and the shield combined sent her crashing through two walls and the hall between them. She hit the floor harder than she had expected. Thanos picked his way through the rubble as he made his way towards her, the sword in his hands poised to strike. He stopped as he reached her, smiling at her hesitation.

“If only I could kill you here,” he sighed. “Alas, I would only lose all of the information I require. But a wounded princess is still a live one.”

She tensed, awaiting the blow as he raised his sword. A loud thud broke through the silence as something round connected with the back of the warlord's head. Freyja rolled out of the way as he tumbled to the ground. She jumped to her feet, grabbing the shield the second she saw it, and ran towards the man who had thrown it.

“What did I tell you?” she yelled, dragging Steve out of the room and down a hall.

“Everyone's out and I knew you needed help.”

“So you decided to bring the Tesseract right back into Thanos’s grasp?”

“Of course not,” he answered, keeping pace with her as they ran. “I gave it to Natasha.”

“Are you suicidal? Or do you simply not care?” she demanded, biting back a comment about his choice of giving the Tesseract to Natasha. “Thanos needs me alive, but he won't hesitate to kill you.”

“I wasn't going to leave you to fend for yourself.”

“I don't need rescuing,” she hissed, looking back in the direction of frustrated yells.

“Good thing I'm only helping you, then,” he said with a smile.

“Then make yourself useful and – GET DOWN!” she shoved him away as she caught sight of a black streak out of the corner of her eye.

The energy slammed into her back, sending her skidding down the hall. Waves of pain wracked through her body as she convulsed on the floor. It took all of her concentration not to cry out. She could just make out Thanos's figure through her tears, his footsteps slow as though he wasn’t in a hurry, as though he had all the time in the world. He yanked her up by her arm, causing her to yelp as he twisted it the wrong way.

“How strange that you are so fiery when your people were the very epitome of passivity. It would have been much more entertaining had they been this lively. Killing them had been all too easy. You should have heard your father scream as I split his skull.”

Snarling with anger, she allowed her energy to send a bolt of pain lancing up his arm where he held her. He howled in agony as it raced through his body and he let her go. She twirled around him, giving him a swift kick in the back that brought him to his knees. With a short incantation, chains of her silver aura wrapped around his hands and ankles, pulling him to the ground.

He struggled against the restraints, yelling out in anger. She barely spared Steve a glance, who she had accidentally thrown through a wall of glass in her haste, as she bound the chains into the concrete. Pulling a talisman out of her pocket, she allowed an unstable form of her aura to pool into the jade pendant. She then placed a temporary containment spell on it and tossed it into the rubble.

“Never mistake me for my father,” she snapped.

Without waiting for the Eternal’s reply, Freyja took off in the opposite direction. Steve, who must have gotten up as she was speaking, didn’t say a word when she grabbed his arm and ran.

“We're going to want to be at least a mile from this base in exactly two minutes and thirty-eight seconds,” she told him.

“You set a time bomb?” he asked skeptically.

She laughed, “Worse. I 'set' a form of pyrotechnics consisting of pure auric energy. Imagine your atomic bomb, simply twenty-three percent stronger and more destructive. What's the quickest way out of here?”

“The staircase down that hall, to the right.”

“Not quick enough,” she said as she threw a ball of energy at the ceiling, causing a large hole to open up to the sky. “You have no qualms with flight, do you?”

He shook his head before watching as she rolled her shoulders and white wings unfolded from her back. She took hold of him, bringing him closer, and leapt into the air. He didn't have time to wonder about anything strange that had recently occurred as he was too in shock at the fact he was flying through levels of an underground base to the sky with a winged goddess. He really missed the days when the weirdest thing he had seen was a red-skinned Nazi who had been through an underdeveloped experiment.

When they reached roughly forty feet off the ground, the base exploded. Freyja cried out in surprise as she twirled to escape the flames and tendrils of energy. She knew very well that there was no more painful a death than by pure energy, as it would rend both the body and soul apart. And while she might be able to heal a few burns, Steve could die of energy poisoning if she did not keep him unscathed.

She bit her lip as one of the flames hit her right calf. Another hit her left wing, causing the feathers to burn. Unable to control her flight pattern, she careened to an empty field to the east, her wings wrapping protectively around Steve. She summoned what little energy she had left to soften their landing. They hit the ground hard, despite her efforts, but not enough to do more than bruise their skin. Freyja rolled onto her back, spreading her wings flat against the grass, as she tried to collect her thoughts and catch her breath.

“I didn't know you could fly,” Steve said between coughs.

“Shape-shifting,” she gasped. “My people aren’t born with wings, but we may have them should we wish.”

He offered her a hand as she got to her feet, “How did your people die if they could do that?”

“I'm not aware of the exact details.”

“Do you think he's dead?”

She gave him a skeptical look, “If only the fates were that kind. He may not be dead, but he is detained for the moment.”

“How long will that hold him?”

She shrugged, “Two to three hours.”

“At least?”

“At most,” she corrected, looking towards the sky and back at Steve. “We need to get to the Avengers Tower and assemble whoever you have to fight. Thanos did not come here alone. He has an army of his own, it simply has not arrived yet.”

“More Chitauri?”

“Not likely. From what I’ve read, the bomb Stark threw towards their base will have likely killed too many of them. But there are always weaker species that he can manipulate.”

“So how are we getting to Avengers Tower?”

“Same way we escaped: we’re flying.”


	20. Chapter 19: Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to match Thanos, Freyja invites a few old friends and breaks a few of her own beliefs.

_“My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.”_

–George R. R. Martin

* * *

 

Freyja propped her right leg on the couch to get a better angle at which to heal the energy burns. Knowing she would have to save her strength, she called on the energy of the Tesseract, which was safely around her neck once more, to help her. The Avengers and Nick Fury sat around Tony's living room, all looking at her for answers. Fury’s stare, in particular, was practically tangible and she felt as though his gaze was almost burning her.

“I suppose I owe you an explanation,” she sighed.

“Now you owe me an explanation?” Fury asked skeptically. “You owed me an explanation the second you arrived. Now you owe me a goddamned solution. What the hell was that thing and what does it want?”

“His name is Thanos,” she told him, wincing at his tone. “He’s of a race known as the Eternals, an offshoot of humans who once held a colony on Saturn’s moon, Titan. You would not find it now, as he nearly wiped it out of existence. He’s obsessed with Death and the Tesseract. For some reason, he believes it will allow him to win her favor, quite possibly by using it to further his destruction.”

“Death is a woman?” Tony asked.

Freyja shook her head, “She is an Entity, a physical embodiment of an idea, and is therefore neither man nor woman. However, she does present herself most often in female form.

“Thanos is in love with her – or he believes himself to be. However, he cannot get to the Tesseract, nor the information he seeks, without first finding me. I thought he would not come to Earth, as he knows my empathy for Midgard would never allow me to put you in danger. I was mistaken. Something must be happening, something which is making him desperate, and it is not just his loss during the attack he forced Loki to make against you last year…”

“How do you know all of this?” Bruce asked.

“Because I knew him as a child.”

Everyone stared at her, each face plastered with a different emotion. She could practically hear the blood vessel in Fury's head burst, however. He looked as though he might strangle her. Despite his glare, Freyja felt relief wash through her as the magic binding her didn’t keep the words from being said.

“My people found him abandoned on an asteroid, alone and covered in blood, and we thought he had been the victim. He seemed so kind to us. We never realized how manipulative he was, how he used our compassion in order to get closer to the Tesseract. Then he met me. I was living proof of his hypotheses, and so he became reckless.

“He ran experiments on himself, taking in miniscule amounts of the Tesseract’s energy into his own body, in his pursuit for Death. Hundreds died at his hands until we cast him out of the Nine Realms. But I’ll never forget how he looked at me. How he thought I was the answer to all of his questions.”

“Why did you not tell us this?” Thor asked.

“All of Vanaheim took an oath of silence regarding Thanos,” she explained. “We could not speak of him to outsiders unless doing so was absolutely necessary.”

“What makes it any more necessary now than it was before?” Fury demanded.

“He is threatening the lives of every person on this planet. By doing so, he made it necessary for you to know of him.”

“So where is he?” Natasha asked.

“Likely rallying an army,” Freyja explained.

“You don’t know?” Tony asked. “I thought you could see the future.”

“The future isn’t set in stone. It can be changed just as quickly as you can your mind. Thanos knows as much, and so will make the future as indecipherable as he can. I can, for once, see nothing of the future. All I know is that he will know that I am here.”

“We need to evacuate the city,” Natasha pointed out. “At least this time we have a little bit of time to prepare.”

Freyja nodded as she got to her feet, “Do what you can. I have a few favors to call in.”

“Favors?”

“I have friends from other races, other pantheons, whom I met during my exile. They would come to my aid if asked.”

“You’re bringing more gods here?” Clint asked incredulously.

“This threat is my fault and so I will do what I can to end it.”

“Can your 'friends' be trusted?” Fury asked.

“Of course,” she said, her answer quick and without hesitation. “Is that alright with you?”

“We can use any help offered. But I'm not putting up with any wise-ass gods. If any of them pull something I don't like, you're sending them straight back.”

“Agreed,” she said and, with a nod, she walked out onto the balcony outside the glass walls.

Tony turned to Thor who looked anxious at the conversation, “I'm guessing you had no clue she knew other gods.”

“I was not even aware that others like us existed. It seems the Vanir have known such since the beginning of time.”

“I'll leave this in your more than capable hands,” Fury said as he got up. “It seems I’ve got an evacuation to orchestrate.”

“You're just going to leave us with over a dozen superhuman people who could act exactly like Loki?” Clint exclaimed, looking shaken at the idea.

“I'm sure you all can handle a few more extraterrestrials,” Fury answered. “Now if you'll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

And with that, he walked into the elevator and closed the doors behind him.

“Any ideas what half of these gods are going to be like?” Bruce asked Thor.

Thor shook his head, hand instinctively grasping the handle of Mjolnir. If these friends of Freyja's were anything like his own people, they would all be in deeper trouble than before. To break the heavy silence that had fallen over the room, Steve murmured something about preparing, and the Avengers separated to suit up.

When they returned, Freyja was closing the portal she had created with the Tesseract. There were already men and women, dressed in historical garb ranging from Roman tunics and _baltea_ to ornately decorated _lungi_ , in the room. With the thought that these were the beings they would be fighting alongside, the Avengers did their best to introduce themselves as Freyja remained outside with another of the gods.

Hermes, a tall, slight man who looked to be in his mid-twenties, had leaned against the glass wall while she finished closing the portal. He looked exactly the same as when she had left: golden blonde curls, twinkling blue-grey eyes, and a crooked grin that made him look as if he was up to something.

“It's been a long time, Athena,” he said, embracing her as she approached him.

“Athena,” she laughed as they walked inside. “It has been a longtime since anyone has called me that.”

“With this crowd, I would wager you’ll hear many of your old names.”

Freyja took a minute to nod in agreement as she took in the entire scene before her. It was strange to see so many of her old friends together in one room. She was halfway surprised the building hadn't collapsed yet, given how many of the immortals didn’t get along. Even Poseidon and Zeus, who were usually in foul moods around each other, were talking in a civilized manner.

“Excuse me!” she called over the noise. “I hate to interrupt, but we only have a limited amount of time to come up with a strategy against our enemy. If you would all gather around the table…”

Everyone found a spot to either sit or stand around the coffee table that Freyja was temporarily enlarging with magic. She then created a scale model of the city, the glass of the table rising up to form the skyscrapers, and little metal pieces to resemble each of them.

“Our enemy is Thanos,” she announced, conjuring a small metal bust of the Eternal. “But he will bring an army, which will be your main concern. I will confront Thanos myself. One of you will help Dr. Banner guard the Tesseract, as moving it will only draw him to populated areas. Artemis, Clint, Zeus, Thor, and Hermes will take the skies, monitoring anything that flies. Ares, would you care to do the honors?”

He grinned, taking one of the metal statues from her, as he immediately began to bark out battle plans. She smiled as she watched everyone give input, adding to the strategies so that they could cover every base. It was while she was watching them that a flash of movement outside caught her eye. She turned, eyes widening as she recognized the familiar figure.

Perched on the glass sides of the walkway, as if gravity didn't affect him and he couldn't actually fall, was a tall man with slate-colored skin. His long white hair hung past his shoulders, his pointed face twisted into a wistful smile, white-grey eyes shining in muted happiness. He wore a mix of grey leather and dragon scale chainmale. It was a face she would never forget, a face that she immediately registered as a very good friend. As she walked out to meet him, he inclined his head respectively, and she followed the suit.

“Princess Freyja of the Vanir,” he said softly in his strange accent. “It is good to see you again. You are looking well. Gotten a little older, haven't you?”

“Erland,” she sighed, pulling him into a hug. “It is good to see you once more. But I must ask: how did you know come here, old friend?”

“I had the nagging suspicion that you needed my aid and simply followed your energy trail to find you here. Don't tell me that thuggish brute has it out for you again.”

“I'm afraid so.”

He raised a thin eyebrow, “You’re not going to run this time?”

“No,” she answered. “I allowed my fear to drag this out for too long. I'm going to face Thanos and end this at last.”

He leapt down from the rail, placing a hand on the pommel of his sword, “Then I shall fight by your side.”

“I am already in your debt,” she protested. “You owe me nothing.”

“Freyja, it is the day of prophecy. I would not leave you to face it alone.”

“I had thought I had changed fate, that I had stopped Renascentia from becoming a reality.”

“Had you thought that, you would have faced the Overmaster long before now.”

Though his words were not unkind, she flinched at them all the same. It was true. She had only run from Thanos for so long, allowed him to rule over her every move, because she was afraid that she truly hadn’t made a difference. But she would not allow her fear to justify her inaction any longer.

“You’re right,” she told him. “But it’s time I stopped fighting my fate.”

“Then I will fight by your side, 'til the seams of reality unfold at my feet.”

She smiled at his confidence, “Then we had better go inside and help plan.”

They both drew stares as they walked into the building. The immortals stiffened as they saw Erland, each recognizing the eerie ambiance his aura gave off. He simply radiated of something else, something beyond the boundaries of logic, but none of them said a word. She knew that if she trusted him, they would trust her judgement.

“Everyone,” she said quickly, hoping to extinguish any doubt. “This is Erland, a very old friend and ally of mine. He is willing to aid us in any way he can.”

He walked closer to the coffee table with the city model, examining the pieces scattered across the streets, “Interesting game of chess you have here. But I have an easy play that ensures your success.”

He picked up the piece that resembled Freyja and placed it in front of the Thanos piece, “Checkmate!”

She stifled a laugh as everyone gave him a funny look. The faces that met his actions were worth watching, even if she didn’t think he had a clue as to what he was doing. As the others seemed to regather their wits, she created a piece to resemble him and placed it in his hand.

“I choose?” he asked. “Alright, I believe you have a chink in your armor here.”

She nodded as he placed his piece in an otherwise deserted area, “You're right. Ares, I do believe you're losing your touch.”

“I haven't been in a good war since Troy!” he exclaimed in his defense. “Occasional lapses in judgment are possible, Athena.”

“Forgive me for my thoughtlessness. I did not think to consider this. Has everything been decided?”

Murmurs of consent echoed through the room.

“Good,” she answered, allowing her armor to form around her. “We had better prepare. Pray all goes well today, for the alternative is unacceptable.”

* * *

Freyja kneeled on a bird-shaped ledge on a tower she didn't know the name of. What had Tony called it? The Crystal Building? No, that wasn’t quite right. She couldn't remember and, she thought with a shake of her head, she shouldn't even be worrying about such a trivial thing. Why was she worrying about such meaningless thoughts?

Her eyes narrowed as she came to her conclusion: something was wrong. It had been a little under three hours since she had stood in the penthouse of the Avengers Tower. She may have greatly wounded Thanos, but he had always been quick to recuperate. He should have been upon them long before now. She pushed the button of the mic she had been given, along with everyone else, and suppressed a sigh.

“Clint, do you see anything?”

“Not from this angle,” he replied.

“Zeus? Horus? Arawn? Hermes? Anything?”

“Nothing on this end,” Horus grunted.

“Same as here,” Hermes muttered.

“Nay,” Arawn sighed.

“Not so much as a shadow out of place,” Zeus said last.

“Something's not right,” she murmured. “Thor, Ares, any ideas on this one.”

“Something is very wrong,” Ares growled. “We're worse than sitting ducks here.”

“Do you hear that?” Quetzalcoatl said suddenly, making all of the others go quiet.

It was then that she heard it. The noise was soft and barely there, the faintest of clicking sounds, but it wasn’t quite the same as the sound of something approaching. Then it multiplied, the clicking echoing off the glass and steel buildings to create an almost humming sound. Something moved behind her and she turned just in time.

Freyja was engulfed in a tangle of claws, fangs, and scales. It was disorientating, to feel the creatures that attacked her and yet her vision couldn’t focus in the pandemonium long enough for her to make out exactly what the insectoid creatures looked like. She screamed out an incantation, blowing the creatures back with a sphere of energy. Transparent wings, fanged jaws, and triangular heads greeted her as she got a better look.

“They're Brood _,”_ she shouted, knocking two arrows at once as she began to pick them off. “Watch for the stingers. Their poison will only paralyze but, if you intake too much, they’ll kill you.”

“Crispy-fried space ants,” she heard Tony mutter. “Always a party when Asgard visits.”

“A conversation for a better time,” she said, using magic to slow her descent as she leapt off the side of the building. “Thor, how are you holding up?”

A laugh was his only reply.

“Anyone's aid would be helpful,” Andraste snarled suddenly.

“I'm on my way,” Freyja replied. “Has anyone spotted Thanos yet?”

Everyone answered with the same reply, no one had seen the Eternal yet. A flicker of worry went through her as she thought of the Tesseract.

“Vishnu, I trust the Tesseract is secure.”

“Have a little faith, Maya,” the blue-skinned god replied.

“How many aliases do you have?” Clint asked suddenly.

“I’m not entirely certain,” she answered honestly.

“You're worse than Natasha.”

“Is it my fault your people create a new name for me every time I visit?”

“Too much talk, people,” Natasha said, cutting off several different conversations. “We need to keep these lines as free as possible.”

As Freyja levitated towards the street, shooting as many Brood from the skies as she could, she wondered where Thanos was hiding. It was unlike him to cower from a fight. She refused to check the future, as it would distract her from the fight, and so she continued searching from above. Occasionally one of the winged beasts would take flight and she would drive an arrow through its eye as it approached.

“Freyja!” Hermes yelled over the noise.

She turned to look at him, his eyes wide in fear as he rushed towards her in his winged sandals and helmet. It was far too late when she realized the fear in his eyes was not related to himself. A spear of pure energy sliced across her torso, causing her to lose her concentration and spiral back to Earth.

She managed to right herself just before she hit the ground, but she might as well have done nothing. As soon as her feet touched the ground, a shock wave of Thanos's familiar black aura knocked her through a glass wall. The shards trembled around her as she tried to stand again, threatening to break into even smaller pieces in result of her proximity. A purple hand closed around her neck, lifting her off the floor.

“Found him,” she breathed, her fingernails digging into the skin of his hand.

He chuckled softly as his fist tightened, cutting off any more of her words, “I see you've brought a few friends. Fortunately, I brought a few of my own.”

Freyja gasped as his grip tightened. Spots danced in front of her eyes, her lungs screaming for air, as she felt the bruises beneath his fingers begin to form. Her body ached from her fall, but still she struggled against him.

“I once sought to give this planet away as a prize. It was useless and weak, but I see now that its people are strong-willed. They will be the first to burn, as a message to the worlds that I am coming. The only question that truly matters is what I shall do with you.”

He tossed her away from him, sending her crashing through a few more glass walls. It took every ounce of her strength to push herself off the floor. She scrambled around for her bow, desperately praying it was near, but could find nothing.

“You have always been so very important, Freyja,” he said, taking his time as he stepped through the mess. “I thought, at first, it was simply because of the secrets you protected. I never realized you were so much more. It pains me to think I did not recognize you before.”

“Then allow me to ease your suffering,” she snarled, ignoring his rambling.

She charged him, a bolt of energy in her hand, and took a swipe at his face. He managed to dodge enough for her to miss her target, but she still managed to open a wound above his cheek. He snarled and retaliated with a blow to her head which sent her flying like a rag doll once more.

He was too physically strong for her. And although she was the gifted one in magic and mind, it would do her little good if the Eternal broke her neck. She was left with evasion. As he walked closer, taking immense pleasure in drawing out the time, she turned and ran into a room full of Roman-style pillars.

Using as little energy as she could, Freyja conjured mirrors in between each pillar to create a labyrinth of reflections. Thanos stopped as he came to her illusion, anger flaring in his blue eyes, and his gaze flicked over the reflections restlessly. She smiled at him before cloaking herself in a spell that reflected light waves around her, rendering her invisible to the eye.

“What are you playing at, Princess? You know you can do nothing but stall for time.”

“I have but one question for you before I introduce you to defeat,” she said, her voice echoing through the hall. “What did you hope to gain from using Loki? If you wanted leverage, you would have kept him in your grasp. And your folly lost you the mind stone – do not act surprised that I know. I would recognize the Soul Gems anywhere. So how was manipulating Loki a necessity?”

“It is true, I did not need the Earth or his assistance in gaining it. However, I had a theory which needed testing.”

“You should have known that I was too far to know of your bargaining chip.”

“Your prince was never a bargaining chip. I already have a much more compelling one for you,” he said, pulling something small out of his pocket.

It was a ring. A ring in the shape of a thick golden dragon that curled around the wearer's finger. Dark sapphires winked where the dragon's eyes would be. She knew this ring, had seen it almost every day of her life, and would have recognized it anywhere.

She cried out in rage, launching herself at the warlord. His eyes widened in surprise but he could do nothing as she pulled her aura close around her and slammed into him with the force of a battering ram. Silver tendrils wrapped around him as she ripped the ring from his hand.

“Where is he?” she growled through clenched teeth, allowing her aura to pulse through him like electricity. “What have you done with Freyr?”

He laughed through the pain, not saying a word.

“Where is my brother?”

“I had a feeling you would react in a similar way. How convenient it must be to know that there is still a male heir to the throne.”

“There is no throne for an heir to take. You made certain of that.”

When he didn’t answer, she made the tendrils around him tighten.

“Do not play games with me. Where is my brother?”

He pushed past her aura with a snarl and flipped her over suddenly, pinning her to the floor, “You shall be reunited with him soon enough. And you can watch the worlds fall together.”

“Never!” she hissed, bringing her knee up.

She managed to hit him in the stomach and he loosened his grip. As they rolled, each one trying to gain the upper hand over the other, Thanos pulled out a curved knife and thrust it into her side. She clenched her jaw in pain, conjuring a knife of her own. She managed to drive the blade into his thigh, earning her a howl of pain, and she jumped back as he let her go.

Before he could get up, she ran to him and kicked hard at his face. She heard a satisfying crack before part of his jaw went slack. He leapt to his feet, hitting her in the left shoulder. Her clavicle snapped under the blow, causing fire to lance up and down her arm and chest. Holding her shoulder awkwardly, she managed to land a jab to his chest and another kick to his jaw.

At his hesitation, she vaulted up and kicked him squarely in the chest. He fell back, the added strength of her aura allowing her to match his, and he hit one of the pillars hard. She didn’t waste a second as she raced towards him and broke his uninjured leg with magic. Forming a sword out of her aura, she raised it above her head to strike.

“You can't do it,” he slurred. “You may bring yourself to fight, but you will not kill me. You will banish me, just as your people did, and I will return stronger than before.”

“Death is too kind for your crimes.”

“Spare me your conscience. You are weak. Just like the rest.”

Her eyes snapped open as she sensed, rather than heard or saw, his movement. She spun around, knocking the knife out of his hand and pushing him into the pillar once more. The chains of her aura that formed around him this time were stronger than before. She stood back when she finished, watching the struggling Eternal.

“I have decided your punishment.”

She began to chant in the language of her people, using an incantation she never thought she would need. It was an old spell, one which none of her people knew the origin of, but also one of the few forms of dark magic. A reflection spell of sorts, making the victim suffer the same pain the caster had. She had nearly two and a half millennia of suffering and now she was forcing it on him.

Thanos’s pupils dilated as it began to run its course, horror reflecting in his now black eyes. He screamed out wordlessly as he felt all of her loss, her grief, and her guilt. He felt the pain of his victims, the ones who had died while he chased her. She steeled her nerves as the fear and anguish became clear in his cry. He struggled to escape, to break free of the bonds, but the chains held fast.

His tremors caused the building to shake, cracks laced their way through the ceiling, pillars and walls. She prayed silently that the skyscraper would hold. Her energy was already draining from the strength of the spell and the pain of her wounds. She had nothing to spare to keep the building standing. She continued on with her incantation, giving all her energy to end the one man sought to destroy everything in existence.

He gave one final jerk as she finished, the light gone from his eyes. His face was frozen in a mask of horror, the black never receding to reveal blue, but she could not seem to feel any pity for the warlord. Her fatigue was too much, blood leaving her wounds in equal amounts as her strength. She leaned against the pillar in attempt to stay up.

It shifted under her weight, the cracks widening. She looked up in shock as the building gave one shudder before collapsing on top of her. As the rubble tumbled down, she gave into the darkness. Death was welcome at this point and she fell silently into its cold embrace, thinking only of the fact that they _had_ killed each other in the end.

Across the city, Thor looked around the empty streets as the ethereal screeches stopped. It had been a bloody battle and definitely a strange one, even by his standards. Never before had he seen the creatures Freyja had called Brood. They had, however, been much easier to defeat once Tony, Clint, and Zeus had blown through their wings.

“Is that all of them?” a weary Steve said through the earpiece.

Everyone seemed to be mostly alright, if tired and battered, and all of the beasts had been slain. They would all have bruises and scrapes afterwards.

"Has anyone heard from Freyja?” Thor asked suddenly.

Silence was the only answer he received. It finally dawned on everyone that she had practically disappeared during the battle. Thor opened his mouth to address Hermes, who he knew had been the last of them to see her, but stopped as the ground shook. He turned around to face a falling tower, the cement and steel crumbling down like a castle mad of sand. His eyes widened in shock as he watched it collapse. A telltale wave of energy spread on the wind from the building, making him nauseous.

“Was that…?” Steve began, but he couldn't seem to finish.

Swinging Mjolnir around his head, Thor was lifted into the sky. He flew as quickly as he could towards the wreckage. Nothing was left but a large pile of rubble and glass, dust in the air obscuring any detail he might see, and any evidence of anyone was buried beneath the ruin.

“Freyja!” he called, landing on a large cement chunk.

He scanned the mess, hoping for some sign of life, but could find none. Had she and Thanos destroyed each other? Even if she had managed to kill Thanos, he knew enough about the Vanir to know that she wouldn’t have survived the building collapsing on top of her. Her people were too physically fragile. It was a sickening thought, and it made his heart break all over to think that he had lost his friend again.  

What would everyone else do if she was gone? How could he return to Asgard, admitting to the few Vanir left alive that their princess had been alive, only to say he had witnessed her true death? Grief washed over him, combining with a sense of overwhelming failure, and he slammed Mjolnir into one of the cement fragments beside him.

As he watched the lump fly yards away, Thor’s eye caught the slightest movement among the rubble. Racing towards the faint motion, Thor hopped over bent beams, broken rocks, and shards of glass. He could just make out thin fingers breaching a faint silvery net – an auric shield, he realized with a sense of relief – in an attempt to push the wreckage away. He dropped Mjolnir and helped to push pieces of the broken skyscraper away.

“Freyja,” he shouted happily, grabbing her arm to pull her from the pile.

She was alright. Bloodied, bruised, broken, and exhausted, but she was alive. Her hair was silvery-grey, a sign of overexertion in magic, and her blue eyes were bloodshot. A look of relief passed over her face as she saw Thor.

"Well, that was easier than I expected,” she sighed, then threw her arms out wide. “Piece of cake.”

Her eyes rolled back into her head at that moment and Thor barely had enough time to catch her. He picked her up, walking away from the debris. Her blood was dripping across his breastplate. Her wounds looked mostly superficial, but he would only be certain if someone took a look at them when they returned.

“Thor?” she groaned softly.

“Yes?”

“Does your offer of letting me return to Asgard still stand?”

“Of course.”

She nodded, “I think I’ll take you up on that. I'll even buy you a drink when we arrive.”

He chuckled, “I think we'll need more than a drink after this one."

She smiled weakly, but her amusement did reach her eyes, and he knew things would be alright after all.


	21. Chapter 20: Other Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After cleaning herself up, the Avengers and their godly guests throw themselves a little victory party.

_“When they told her her story was written in the stars,_

_She went to the heavens and crushed each one with her bare hands,_

_Stars have no power over her,_

_The night sky is hers now,_

_And she will carve it with constellations of her own.”_

– _Never Tell a Goddess Her Fate_  by K.S.

* * *

 

“On a scale of one to ten, how would you say the pain is?” Bruce asked.

“Five,” Freyja said stiffly.

He gave her a doubtful look.

“I have a high tolerance for pain,” she explained, not bothering to say why. “If it makes you feel better, I’m certain that it will be a seven in two minutes.”

She lay on her borrowed bed, staring up at the ceiling as she mentally prepared herself for the pain that would greet her. Her shoulder had healed itself, but it hadn’t set properly, and needed to be broken again so that she could fix it. A twisted piece of steel had worked its way into a major nerve in her ankle and the entire left side of her torso had been scraped raw despite her armor.

Thor was standing at her side, Mjolnir in hand, as he waited for his orders. He wasn't exactly pleased with the prospect of deliberately causing her more pain, but she managed to persuade him. She cut off a large piece of her tunic with her good arm and twisted it until it resembled a rope before she placed it between her teeth.

“Are you sure this is the best way?” Thor asked skeptically.

“We can't take her to a hospital like this. Not only would they have no clue what to do with her, but there are still too few people in the city at the moment. And she doesn’t have enough energy to fix it herself.”

“If Loki hears I did this, he'll have my head for a mantelpiece,” he sighed.

She rolled her eyes, focusing on the ceiling with more interest than necessary. She heard Thor give a resigned sigh before he struck her, not as hard as he would an enemy, her bone broke with a sharp _crack_. Her scream was muffled by the cloth as she bit down hard on the tough material. She grimaced as Bruce set it for her and she pulled out the leather when he was done.

“Thor, could you bring Hermes in?”

All of the gods, and the other Avengers, were in the living room of Tony's penthouse. Freyja couldn't summon enough strength to create a portal just yet, so the immortals bided their time. She was just grateful that they seemed to be getting along.

“If you need energy, Freyja, you know I can help,” Thor told her.

“No, you are fatigued as it is. Besides, I wish to speak with him.”

Thor nodded, walking out of the room. She yelped as Bruce suddenly pulled the scrap of metal out of her ankle.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I figured it wouldn't bother you as much if you weren't paying attention.”

She nodded in understanding, grimacing as he gently prodded her side. Her armor had long since been removed and, although she wasn’t ruining Tony’s mattress, there was still blood slowly seeping out.

“Is it possible for a Vanir to bleed to death?”

“That is the same as asking if decapitation will kill me,” she answered. “Vanir are immortal, not indestructible. I may be a little stronger than the average human, but I will still die, if subjected to certain debilitating wounds.”

Iovantucarus, the Celtic god with orange curls and a kind face, came rushing in before Bruce could reply. Thor and Hermes walked in after, looking in shock at the blood-soaked sheets.

“I felt that something was wrong. It seems I was right,” the god of healing said as he placed his hand on her side.

“It is good that your instincts are often right. How fare the others?” she asked as his hand began to glow white.

“A few scrapes, some minor cuts, many bruises, nothing too difficult to handle. You seemed to have gained the worst of the wounds.”

“One of the many hazards of fighting an Eternal,” she sighed as the cut healed under his palm, her tone only half-joking.

He moved his hand to her shoulder, causing the bone to knit together again, faster than it would have relying solely on her magic.

“You should not allow yourself to obtain such injuries. Though I am sorry to say it, few find it within themselves to look past the scars on one’s skin to love them.”

She laughed, “I have no scars, my friend. And you know that my only-”

“Your only love is mischief,” he finished. “So you have said many a time. There are some days on which I doubt the existence of your so-called man of chaos.”

“One day, perhaps, I shall disprove your lack of belief,” she told him, sitting up slowly. “But, for now, you must take me at my word

He nodded and left the room, no doubt to heal the rest of Tony's guests. Thor, Hermes, and Bruce stared at her in confusion, reminding her that none of them spoke Old Gaelic.

“When did you learn the language of the Goidels?” Hermes asked, one angular eyebrow arched in query.

“You  _must_  have wondered where I ran off to every now and then.”

“Zeus would have been furious had he known.”

“You should know by now that Zeus never held any power over my actions,” she said. “But as long as we’re on the topic, I was wondering if you could perhaps hint to him the idea of setting up permanent communication between the immortal realms.”

“Athena, with all due respect, do you know exactly how dangerous that could be?”

“Our differences may cause problems, but the possible alliances are worth the trouble.”

“And if you cause a war between the worlds?”

“I know what I'm doing, Hermes. War will not break out among us.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Just mull over it, please?”

He sighed, “I'll see what I can do, but I make no promises. My tongue is not made of silver, and you know how adamant Zeus can be.”

“Thank you.”

“I suppose you're returning to Asgard,” he said, not bothering to walk out just yet.

Quietly excusing himself, Bruce took the opportunity to take his leave. Thor watched her carefully, as Hermes had switched into English with his question, and she knew she would have to answer. She gave both an assenting nod.

“Make sure to visit Olympus soon,” Hermes said. “We all miss you.”

“I'm sure Hera and Aphrodite would be positively thrilled to see me again,” she said sarcastically.

He threw his head back with a laugh, his hands clutching his sides as though he might otherwise fall apart, as he walked out. Thor turned to watch the younger god, a peculiar expression on his face.

“He is similar to Loki, in certain ways.”

“In certain ways,” she replied, getting to her feet. “But Hermes’ sense of mischief comes from his love of games, and Loki’s from his curiosity and his hunger for attention. At their core, they are actually very different.”

He shook his head, “No wonder the Greeks named you goddess of wisdom. Zeus has told me some interesting stories. Speaking of Zeus and the other gods you invited, how will you send them back?”

“The same way I brought them,” she scoffed as they walked out the door. “Honestly, Thor, what good is a head on your shoulders if you don't use it?”

He laughed, recalling when Loki had once said the same thing. Freyja smiled as well, happy that he had realized she was teasing him, as well as looking forward to the moment she would return to Asgard. But that would have to wait, as Tony had decided to throw a celebratory party. Thor was having her bring a barrel of Asgardian ale by magic later on. She had a feeling that she would have to stop Tony from getting alcohol poisoning.

* * *

 Freyja, hair returned to its usual shade of red and feeling much more like herself, walked out of her borrowed room with a fervent wish that she could disappear. Natasha had come to her with an apology for her antipathy, explaining that she would not forgive Loki but wouldn’t hold her responsible for his actions or for falling in love with him. Freyja had thanked the superspy for her honesty. Though they might disagree on Loki’s mental state, they could at least act civil towards each other.

She had even given Freyja a dress to wear that evening. It was made of rose-colored silk, with a Queen Anne neckline, capped sleeves, and a hemline that rests just below her knees. A gold belt sits at the waist and Freyja graciously accepts the shoes that match. It is a rather beautiful, if a bit vivid for her taste, gown and Freyja finds she only has to barely adjust measurements for it to fit her.

Tony was the first to spot her, a look of shock on his face, “Is that Natasha’s dress?”

“It is,” she concedes. “It would seem we have come to a sort of truce.”

“Well, you look as I’m not really sure who wore it best,” he said with a smirk. “Let’s go see what Spangles is up to.”

As it turned out, Steve was at the bar with what looked vaguely like Tony's best scotch. Freyja had the unfortunate knowledge of every type of liquor Tony owned, courtesy of him having her taste every one of them, and knew immediately that Tony was not going to be pleased. Steve choked on his drink when he saw her.

“Is that my fifty-year-old Glenfiddich?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve pulled his eyes away from Freyja, face red as a beet, to glance at the glass, “I don't know. Clint gave it to me, said it was the best.”

“Damn it! Where  _is_  Robin Hood? I need to show him what he gets when he steals from the rich.”

He walked off without another word, leaving an amused Steve and a very confused Freyja.

“I actually understood that reference,” he said with a laugh.

“That makes one of us,” she replied, sitting down next to him.

He gestured to the dress, “Tony's idea?”

“Natasha's, actually.”

“You look ravening – ravishing. I meant ravishing,” he corrected himself hastily.

“Thank you,” she answered, biting back a laugh. “Although I would have gone with something more subdued in color.”

“That's Nat for you. I'm surprised you're over here, practically alone. Nat already had to fight off about four of your friends.”

“Mild disregard spell,” she explained. “It dissuades any interest aside from friendship or familial bonds.”

“Really?”

“Being the goddess of beauty is not always a benefit. Many men cannot differentiate love from obsession or lust. And, for some inexplicable reason, I cannot appear plain, no matter how I change my face. It is a side effect of my mixed blood. I'm stuck with using spells to turn away men.”

“You're complaining about being beautiful?”

“I suppose I shouldn't be, but it becomes tiresome when I find myself facing suitors who only want my hand in marriage for the bragging rights, as Tony calls them.”

“And Loki doesn't want bragging rights?”

She laughed, “He wouldn't mind having them, as everyone else brags about their winnings. But he does not see me as a prize to be one. We courted for three centuries, by Midgardian time, and never spoke a word of it simply because I asked him not to. I am lucky to have found him.”

“As opposed to…?”

“As opposed to having a husband who would prefer me to have an empty head, as most Asgardian men do.”

“All muscle and no brains?”

“You have no idea. The one reason Loki and I got along so well: we both preferred tactics to sparring.”

“You can't be too bad at fighting. I heard you took out over fifty of those Brood before Thanos found you.”

“I said I  _didn't_  fight, not that I couldn't.”

“Do you ever just say the entire truth?”

She gave him a crooked grin, “On occasion. But where is the fun in that?”

He laughed at that, downing the last of his drink, “So what brings you over here, to my lonely little corner, when so many of your friends would obviously want to catch up?”

“Sometimes I prefer to be alone,” she answered. “And what of you? All of these beautiful people around you, and yet you sit here with me. No one to dance with?”

He shrugged, “Guess I’m still waiting for the right partner.”

She watched him carefully, catching the sort of wistful look in his eyes, and couldn’t help but glance into his possible futures. It didn’t take long to filter through for what she was looking for. She focused on the vision of Steve standing next to a coppery-skinned woman, both of them looking out the window of an unfamiliar building at the cityscape below. Although they were silent now, apparently having finished their conversation, Freyja could tell there was a comfortable air around the two. The woman turned slowly and laced her fingers around Steve’s neck, gently pulling him down into a kiss.

“Would you like to know something?” Freyja asked, pulling free of the vision.

He shrugged, “Why not.”

“A year and a half from now, you’ll meet one of your right partners,” she told him. “But she has been hurt deeply before – how, I cannot tell – and she will not trust you immediately. When she begins to doubt you, have patience. She will have faith in you.”

“What?” he looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

She tapped her temple, an amused smile playing on her lips, “I can see glimpses of the future, remember? Trust me.”

“You said one of the right partners,” he remarked. “Who’s the second?”

“Ah, but where is the fun in knowing the surprise?”

As she turned her eyes over the others, a flash of green caught her eyes. She peered into the crowd until she found familiar green eyes looking back at her. Loki smiled at her from across the room, looking immensely pleased, and motioned for her to follow him. She watched as he turned without further preamble and made for the overhang outside.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have my own partner to see,” she told Steve. “Oh, before I go, ask Thor about Asgardian ale. It’s aged for a thousand years in barrels of built from the wreckage of a warship of legend, or so I am told. It should be enough to circumvent even your metabolism.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” he laughed.

Freyja didn’t answer aloud, offering him only a wink before she got up and walked towards the door. She wasn’t going to bring up the fact that it had been Tony who had stated the super-soldier’s inability to become inebriated, or the fact that it had been Clint who had confided that Steve sometimes said he would like to, as she felt as though it was an emotionally charged topic.

No one bothered her as she slipped outside. The warm summer air was a welcome surprise after the cold air conditioner of the building, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Loki could feel the heat even through the projection. He stood with his back turned to her and, when he noticed her approaching, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled. She came to a stop beside him and looked down on the New York lights. The city glowed brilliantly against the darkness of the night, causing shadows to play across his face.

Uttering a quick spell, Freyja watched as the view was momentarily obscured by her aura forming a silvery net around them. It faded out of sight just as soon as it had appeared and Loki turned to look at her with a bemused expression.

“Trying to hide from prying eyes?”

She shrugged, “Perhaps I just wanted some privacy.”

“Well, we are very much alone,” he noted aloud.

“How did you know I would be here?”

“Thor,” he said with a smirk. “He informed me that Thanos had followed you, and I knew you would face him. You have always had a particular form of bravery, Freyja, even if it is not one most Asgardians can acknowledge.”

She gave a soft laugh, but said nothing in reply. She found she didn’t need to as, just a few seconds later, he turned to face her. There was amusement in his eyes and she knew he had something to say.

“You graced the soldier with a dance. May I have the same honor?” he asked, holding out his hand.

She entwined her fingers in his as he brought her closer with one arm snaked around her waist. He led her into a traditional Asgardian dance, their bodies swaying slightly to a song no one else could hear.

“I must say, I am quite envious of all men who lay eyes on you in this dress. I would say it suits you, but I'm afraid you rather outshine the dress. I am, however, still partial to you in emerald. Even your usual cobalt has become a favorite of mine.”

She laughed softly, “Perhaps I'll wear emerald tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes. You're returning on the morrow. And I sense there is something you will want to discuss with the All-Father when you arrive.”

She took her hand of his shoulder, not pausing in the dance, and summoned Freyr's dragon ring from its hiding spot in her room. Loki glanced at it for a single second before looking at her again. He had only seen it every now and again, but she could see the instant recognition in his expression.

“Where did you get that?”

“From Thanos,” she answered, making the ring return with a flick of her wrist. “It came with a hint that my brother is not lost to me.”

Loki gave a sigh, “Can you be sure that Freyr is even alive? I don't wish to bring you more sorrow, but I don't want you to chase after empty hints only to find your brother long since dead.”

“If there is one thing Thanos unintentionally picked up in Vanaheim, it's that he never lies. He's out there, Loki, I just have to find him.”

“Why do I have the feeling you're not going to stop until you either find him or his body?”

“Because you know me too well,” she said.

“Do I?” he asked in mock surprise. “Funny, I wasn't aware of that.”

“You know almost everything about me,” she remarked, deciding to give in to the diversion he was intentionally creating.

“Such as?” he said in a playful tone.

Freyja’s lips tugged into a smirk. If he wanted to play games, she would acquiesce. She was determined to tease him just as he once did to her. He stiffened ever so slightly as she leaned up to whisper in his ear.

“Such as exactly how I love to be kissed.”

“Simple, you-”

“Show me.”

A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes and she realized she had dug herself into a hole. He let go of her hand to lift her chin up slightly, leaning down so their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss. When he pulled back, a false look of thoughtfulness crossed his face.

“No, that's not it. How about…?”

He trailed short, tender kisses that started at the corner of her lips and ended when he reached the hollow just below her jaw. She stifled a sigh, not wanting to let him know he was winning just yet.

“Or perhaps…” he murmured against her skin.

He brushed his lips down to her neck where he placed teasing, open-mouthed kisses over her pulse. She tensed when he bit softly into skin, his grin widening at her response, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing her moan.

“Hmm…Ah, I remember now.”

He moved quickly to her collarbone, not giving her time to refrain from gasping as he sucked on the still tender spot. He laughed against her skin as she blushed.

“Was I correct?”

“Took you long enough,” she answered, trying and failing to sound aloof.

“Must you wait until the sunrise to return?”

“It's nearly midnight. Most of Asgard is sleeping.”

“And I'd have you all to myself until dawn. All the more reason to return now, if you ask me.”

“I am not spending the night in a prison cell,” she pointed out. “While my people are less restrained than yours, voyeurism has never appealed to me.”

He laughed at her unamused expression, thoroughly enjoying teasing her. It almost caused him to miss it as she sobered.

“Your projections are getting better,” she noted. “I can actually feel this one.”

“I’ve been saving my strength.”

“And how does it feel?”

“Warm,” he joked, turning serious as she gave him a look. “It feels comforting, less isolating.”

She smiled, “Well, I appreciate your effort.”

They fell silent once more, still moving to a slow tempo. Freyja watched as a concerned edge crept into Loki’s eyes. An inevitability, she supposed, and she steeled herself for his questions.

“How are you, love?

“Tired,” she answered honestly. “But I also feel…relieved. I suppose I shouldn’t, as I just killed someone, but it’s almost as though a weight has been taken from my shoulders.”

“How was he dispatched?”

“Mirrored victim spell, a powerful one. The building collapsed from the aftershocks.”

If he saw her guilt on the matter, he didn’t say anything more on Thanos. Instead, his lips pulled into a wry smile, and she knew he was going to go back to teasing.

“And yet here you are, a vision in starlight.”

 _It wasn’t how I am to die_ , she thought. But she wouldn’t tell him that. Not only could she not yet tell him about the prophecy, as she was incapable of doing so, but she wasn’t sure she would ever have the heart to tell him. So she forced a smile and a joke.

 “You would believe a few tons of rock and metal would be enough to kill me? What small faith you have in me!”

He laughed, shaking his head at the theatrics. After a second, he looked down at her with a smile, resting his chin atop her head.

“I will always have faith in you.”

Her heart sank at his words, but she said nothing. Freyja simply shut her eyes and tried to relax, telling herself that she was safe, even if just for the moment. Renascentia still hung over her head. But, for those few minutes, she would enjoy the small peace she had been awarded.

After all, there would be other times to worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freyja, Thor, and Loki will return in HeartTorn.  
> The Avengers will return in Alchemist: The Seventh Avenger.


End file.
